


Just As It Was

by idmakeitbehave



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: A lil bit of swearing, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAU!Reader, F/M, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/Referenced Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, M/M, canon-typical cases and violence (non-graphic), college sweethearts, yes i said what i said just stick with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idmakeitbehave/pseuds/idmakeitbehave
Summary: You’re the last person Spencer thought he would ever see come through the doors of the BAU.He’sthe last person you wanted to see.That’s why you make a promise to yourself- you refuse to let Spencer Reid have any effect on you. He lost that right the moment he walked out of your life.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 99
Kudos: 431





	1. PROLOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's me again!! Back with another series! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5dNkewVESDO7fGwjfk9cIS

Once you had known a boy with sunshine in his smile and love in his eyes. When you looked at him, you saw the future. There was no question about it. It was as sure as the moon in the night sky, as sure as the sun rising each and every morning. Just as constant.

You were sure it would always be there. It always had, so what could go wrong? That, of course, is the wrong question. You should have asked, ‘What _will_ go wrong?’ Because, as you’ve come to learn, some things are inevitable. Even the sunshine boys will leave you. Even the brightest future will dim to something barely recognizable, just out of reach.

Once, right before it ended, before the collapse, you and this boy had been arguing. Not in a real, true way _―_ in the way that young people in love do when they can’t see the end, when they don’t know what’s coming for them. He had interrupted a movie, one that you can’t even remember the name of anymore. You chastised him for talking over it, but he said it was your fault for being so beautiful, so distracting.

That got you, of course.

You told him it was his fault for being such a sap.

He countered with it being your fault for choosing such a scientifically incorrect film.

Then you told him it was his fault for being such a knowitall.

And that was that. The argument that wasn’t really an argument dissolved into a fit of giggles, both of you falling into one another. Despite the late hour, it was as though you could see the sunshine covering that tiny bedroom.

Before you left, he had told you he loved you. It wasn’t the first time, that was for sure. He said it like it was commonplace, like it was something he would say every day for the rest of his life.

You thought that maybe he would.

It wasn’t until almost a week later, after the collapse, that you realized. You had forgotten to say it back.

The last time you saw the sunshine boy before you turned off that light forever, and you hadn’t told him that you loved him.

You should have. If you had known what you know now about love and loss and utter, all consuming emptiness, you would have said it.

That was your fault.


	2. ONE ― not like you

_“No one will ever be able to knock the wind out of me again. Not like that._ _Not like you_ _.”  
_ _―_ _Trista Mateer_

* * *

It was the last thing Spencer expected.

In hindsight, maybe that meant that he should have known it would happen. Maybe it was inevitable, like a heart breaking in a way that you didn’t know that it could, like a wholeness that you had never known you could feel just one day being… _gone._

Inevitable like the crushing emptiness of almost. Of the insurmountable distance between what was and what could have been. What _should_ have been.

The day started much like any other, each member of the BAU slowly filing into the bullpen. It had been a whirlwind of a week with case after endless case. The paperwork was beginning to pile up, the sleep deprivation notable on every person’s face. That, along with the constant nagging feeling of Strauss checking up on them at every turn, was starting to take a toll.

They were more than capable of doing their jobs, but sometimes it felt like the weight of the world rested squarely on their shoulders. Some days, it did.

The first thing Spencer noticed as he walked to his desk was a faint scent lingering in the air. Rose and vanilla. If he were anyone else he may not have noticed it, but as it was he could place it instantly. It had been years since he had breathed in that scent, breathed in the person attached to it.

Years, and yet it somehow felt like yesterday.

Someone must have used a new shampoo, a new perfume, a new detergent. Something. Anything that would explain the sudden hit to his senses, just one more reminder to tether him to the memories that lived in the darkest recesses of his mind. The ones that haunted him the many nights he was unable to sleep, bitter words and broken promises playing on an endless loop.

This was just another way for the universe to torment him. That was the only explanation. Work was his one sanctuary, his one escape from the loneliness that met him every night in his cold, empty bed. Of course that would be taken from him eventually. He should have expected as much.

Spencer was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Hotch’s door opening, the interruption a welcome distraction.

“I need everyone in the conference room in five minutes.” Hotch gave no more details, simply looked around the bullpen at his team before shutting his office door once more. The blinds were closed _―_ that was unusual.

Derek’s hand met Spencer’s shoulder, causing him to lose the grip he had on the book that he had been holding, but was no longer even attempting to read. “What do you think that’s about?”

Spencer simply shrugged, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He could never be quite sure what was going on in Hotch’s mind at any given moment. The man made a living off of studying people and yet he seemed committed to remaining unreadable.

“You think it’s a case?”

“No way,” Emily said. “I bet it’s something worse. Do you think one of us is getting fired?”

Derek smirked at her, hopping down from his perch on the side of Spencer’s desk. “Better you than me.”

“Children,” JJ called, rolling her eyes as she walked by the three agents. “Behave.” Emily and Derek hurried to follow her to the conference room, Spencer closely behind.

“You know something,” Emily shot back with an accusatory glare. JJ merely tilted her head, batting her eyelashes innocently.

They settled into their seats with Rossi and Penelope not far behind them. Speculations over the meeting continued to fly, their friendly bickering coming to a close when Hotch entered the room. He surveyed the group for a moment as he waited for his overgrown children to settle down.

“We have a new agent joining us today _―_ ” he started, the tension in the room suddenly palpable as a range of reactions graced everyone’s faces. Rossi and JJ looked anything but surprised, but the other four wore varying expressions of shock.

“Is someone getting fired? Please tell me no one is getting fired,” Penelope jumped in, her fluffy pen flying from hand to hand. The threat of termination always seemed to loom on the horizon, especially with Strauss breathing down their necks.

“No one’s getting fired.” Hotch raised his hand, effectively quieting the chatter that had arisen. “Strauss thinks we could use the extra help with our increased caseload. Frankly I agree.” The gears in every one’s heads were almost visibly spinning at his words, trying to determine who was about to walk through the door.

Spencer was not one for speculation _―_ or at least he tried not to be. He was preoccupied with the crossword at hand, trying to keep the anxiety of a new person joining the team at bay. Change was scary, always had been, but if Hotch thought that they were a good addition, he trusted him. He had to.

Rose and vanilla. There it was again, stronger this time. He had to be imagining things. There was no other way.

Footsteps jerked Spencer out of his thoughts. He turned to meet the new agent, his face suddenly going pale, his eyes widening minutely as his pen clattered onto the table. Luckily for him, his reaction went unnoticed by the rest of the team. Their focus was on the person in front of them.

On you.

He blinked at you, trying to reconcile his memories with the person standing before him. You looked different, older obviously, but also like you had gone through something _―_ like you had been to hell and back. But those eyes. Those eyes he would recognize anywhere. There was a scar on your cheek now. _That’s new._ He made a mental note of it, filing it under: things he no longer knows about you. He had a feeling that that list was going to be long, immeasurable even.

You weren’t really there. You couldn’t be. 

Spencer believes in facts, in statistics, in logic. He believes in science. He believes in the things that are empirical, unwavering. None of that would explain the person standing in front of him. None of that would explain the bitterness suddenly in his stomach, the regret twisting in his heart.

You stared straight at him for an instant, no recognition on your face, no hint that you were as shocked to see him as he was to see you. There was something else there instead, something that took him a moment to place. It looked like resentment. The look was gone as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a smile as you turned towards Hotch.

He introduced each of the team members, and you shook their hands pleasantly, genuinely excited to be meeting them. Hotch motioned to Spencer and that same glazed look returned to your face. “And this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Nice to meet you, Doctor Reid.” You nodded at him, not even making an attempt at a handshake. Derek and Penelope glanced at each other, wondering briefly if you had some sort of sixth sense, if you somehow knew that Spencer was averse to handshakes.

The truth was, you just knew Spencer. There had been a point in your life where you had known him better than anyone else. Better than you even knew yourself. Those days were long gone now, destroyed with one single moment.

The introductions finished, Penelope began to present the latest case as you settled into the empty chair beside Derek, smiling at him easily.

A wave of nausea hit Spencer, the periphery of his vision suddenly fuzzy. He gripped the edge of his chair so tightly that his knuckles blanched. No amount of science would be able to explain the parallel universe he somehow found himself in.

This was not supposed to happen.

His entire life had just been thrown for a loop, knocked off of its axis by the one person he had never expected to see come through those doors. He had almost been happy to see you _―_ almost. That fleeting moment was sidelined by the absolute bewilderment he felt and the look of loathing you had directed at him. That, and the lingering sting of the last words you had exchanged so many years ago.

“We’ll head out in fifteen.”

Spencer had missed the entire briefing. How could he have let that happen?

He had been too preoccupied with trying not to stare at you, trying not to show any hint of recognition. You, on the other hand, seemed to have no such problem. You leaned forward in your seat, eyes focused on the screen as Penelope presented the case. You spared him no second glance, no acknowledgement that he was even there.

He had started to wonder if he _was_ really there.

The team began to leave the conference room, headed out to their various destinations before reconvening. Spencer stood dumbfounded for a moment before jumping back into consciousness, grabbing your arm as you went to leave. You spun around to face him and you looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since you had walked in that morning. For the first time in five years, really.

How had it been five years?

You yanked your arm from his grasp, jerking backwards from the force of your movements.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was pathetic, his words a whisper. Even he could hear it.

You raised an eyebrow at him, that same burning gaze returning to your face. That gaze full of resentment. He had never seen you look like that _―_ hadn’t _known_ that you could look like that.

He could have gone his entire life without seeing that look.

“What, are you mad that I interrupted your new perfect life?” you said. “Too bad, Spencer. You’re just going to have to ignore me. You should have no problem with that.” With that, you spun on your heels, heading to your new desk without giving him a chance to respond.

Spencer was left speechless, watching your receding figure fade from his view.

***

You walked out of the conference room without looking back, squaring your shoulders purposefully as you made your way to your desk. You could not let Spencer Reid affect you. You _would_ not. He had lost that right the moment he walked out of your life.

The shock you felt upon seeing him after these five long years was indescribable. You had only known vaguely what he was doing. You still saw Diana from time to time, of course, but you made a point of not mentioning Spencer during your visits. She knew what had happened, she had to, but you were thankful that she stopped bringing him up after the first few times. You didn’t want to know what Spencer was doing with his perfect new life _―_ his new life without you.

He was in the FBI. That you had known. How the scrawny little boy you had met when you were seventeen had grown up to be an FBI agent _―_ that was an entirely different story. One you weren’t sure you would ever get to know.

At least you had had the element of surprise on your side, given that you had beaten Spencer and the rest of his team _―_ your team now, you supposed _―_ to the bullpen. When you spotted him out of Hotch’s office window, you had done a double, maybe even a triple, take. That familiar slouch, those glasses sliding down his nose as he read voraciously. You would recognize him anywhere. You had ignored the tug on your heart that you felt, instead focusing on the vitriol that rose up in your throat. It was easier that way, better even. That was when you had made a promise to yourself _―_ you would not let Spencer Reid have any effect on you.

Easier said than done.

* * *

 _“I think about you. But I don't say it anymore.”  
_ _― Marguerite Duras_


	3. TWO ― the burden of burning

_“What I mean is, I’m tired of everything gorgeous. Of the_ _burden of burning._ _Of wondering when. What I mean is, on some nights I miss you so much that I never want to see you again.”  
_ _― Ali Shapiro_

* * *

_Eleven Years Ago_

College was scary. No one had told you that. They had told you all about how it was exciting, how it was an amazing opportunity, how you would ‘find yourself’ there. They hadn’t told you that you would be terrified as you walked into your first lecture hall, suddenly realizing that you had no idea what you were doing.

There were only a few students in the hall when you entered _―_ you were early, as usual. You were always early when you were nervous. And you were kind of always nervous. You surveyed the people in the room, suddenly acutely convinced that you were in the wrong place. If you were in the wrong class on your first day, there was about a one hundred percent certainty that you would wither up and die on the spot.

You walked up to the most approachable looking student _―_ a boy who looked like he was barely your age, maybe even younger. That was saying something. You were only seventeen. You had thought you would be the youngest student, if only by a year. He was scribbling something furiously in his notebook, and you had a brief moment of panic that you had missed an assignment. An assignment before the first day? College was really going to be horrible.

“Excuse me?” you asked, causing the boy to finally look up from his notebook. He was cute, you noted, watching as he pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Is this 102 with Professor Robbins?”

He looked like you had startled him, like he wasn’t used to anyone noticing him before, much less talking to him. “Math 102 or Astrophysics 102? He teaches both.”

You blinked at him for a second. How the _hell_ did he know that? You barely even knew left from right on this campus. “Math. I’m only a freshman.”

“You’re in the right place.” The boy pursed his lips, nodding at you before returning to his writing.

“Are you taking notes already? It’s the first day.”

He looked back up at you, almost like he was surprised that you were still standing there. “I’m the TA. I like to be prepared.”

 _He_ was the TA? He looked like he was fourteen. You only realized that you had said it out loud when he corrected you. “I’m actually sixteen.”

“Do I even want to know what year you’re in?” you asked, still openly gaping at him.

“I’m a senior.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered under your breath. “That’s incredible. Now I just feel like an idiot.”

“Caltech only accepts 6.4 percent of its applicants, which means statistically speaking you _can’t_ be an idiot. Not that _―_ not that I think you’re an idiot.” He spoke so quickly that all you could do was stare at him, your mind trying to reconcile the fact that this _sixteen year old_ was your TA. College really was scary.

You sank into the seat next to him, a smile spreading across your face at this oddly endearing boy. He seemed alarmed by your gesture, unused to anyone acknowledging him for more than the required minute or two. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer. Spencer Reid."

And the rest was history.

* * *

 _Present Day  
  
_ What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

The first two days at the BAU had been awkward, to put it _incredibly_ lightly. The case had been local and wrapped itself up quickly, leaving you with just a pile of paperwork and nothing to distract you. You liked to think that you were doing a fairly good job of acting like you didn’t know Spencer. There was some truth to that. It hurt you to acknowledge it, but it was true. You didn’t really know Spencer. Not anymore.

It was inconceivable really, this abyss between the past and the present. So many things had happened, so many steps had been taken to lead you here. Somehow none of it felt real. Maybe if you tried hard enough you could take it all back. Where would you be then? What would you be left with?

But life isn’t like the movies. Once something is done, it can’t be undone. Once vicious words are exchanged, they can’t be taken back. All you could do was try to pick up the pieces, move on the best you could. If only you knew how to do that.

You thought that you had known. Life was moving forward, opportunities were opening up for you. Your dream job, the chance to prove yourself. It was really happening. It felt like the possibilities were endless, like you had finally made it out. You were finally moving on. 

And then you had seen him. How could one single glance propel you back in time? Why did you still feel the sting of the past as though it were a fresh wound, not just one ancient scar among many?

Now, you had to be hypervigilant at work. You were surrounded by the best minds in the world, literal profilers, almost every single moment. One wrong move and they would know. They couldn’t know. You weren’t sure why you felt so certain about that, but you did. If they knew, that made it real. It couldn’t be real.

It was easier to live in this sad little delusion, pretending that the Spencer from eleven years ago was an entirely different person than the Spencer right now. Maybe he was. Why should you know?

Even as you thought that, you knew you were wrong. He had changed a little, grown up of course. So had you. But he was still the same Spencer you knew, the same awkward little boy who had caught your eye in that endless lecture hall. You didn’t want it to be true. It hurt so much more that way. 

How could _that_ Spencer do what he had done?

When the next case eventually arrived, all you could feel was relief. Finally there was something to focus on besides the pile of paperwork on your desk and the gut-wrenching memories sitting just a few feet away.

The jet. You were finally going to see the famous BAU jet. More than that, you were going to fly in it. You wanted to pinch yourself as you stepped inside. Surely this was all a dream.

You gaped at the cushy interior before sinking into one of the seats. “You guys really live like this?”

Even Hotch smiled at your words, the rest of the team laughing. Derek sat down beside you, draping an arm around your shoulder with a goofy grin. “‘Live’ is an excellent choice of words. You’ll get over it real quick.”

The case at hand was fairly straightforward _―_ terrifying and horrible, but straightforward. It was exhilarating, working on a case with the BAU, even when you were just spitballing ideas during the flight. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was _your_ team now.

Once the jet had landed, Hotch tasked you and Spencer with the geographic profile. The prospect made you groan internally, but you put on a happy face. Well, as happy as you could muster. You had to. This was your first real chance to prove yourself, to prove that you belonged there. The BAU was where you so desperately wanted to be. Spencer couldn’t get in the way of that.

Not that he wouldn’t try.

Every word you said, every insight you had? It was as though you hadn’t said anything. It was as though you weren’t even there. Spencer was still the same stubborn person you remembered, always insistent on doing things his own way. Always sure that he was right.

The only difference was that this used to be almost endearing. It used to make you laugh and playfully bicker with him until you got your way. Now? You wanted to tear your hair out, wanted to scream at him to let you do your job.

You tried to deal with it, you really did, but it was just too much. He had just grabbed the map from your hands, marking down the coordinates that you had been listing aloud.

The room was empty besides the two of you and you had had enough. “What the fuck is your problem?” you asked, your hands hitting the table with a resounding thud.

Spencer finally looked up, finally acknowledged that you were even there. “What do you mean?”

No way. “Don’t play dumb with me, Spencer. We don’t need to be friends, but you need to let me do my job.”

He just blinked at you with what may have passed for wide, unassuming eyes. You knew better. “I _am_ letting you do your job.”

“No, you fucking aren’t. You haven’t listened to a single word I said, haven’t even let me _touch_ the goddamn map. Being here is my dream and I am _not_ going to let you fuck it up for me because you insist on acting like a child.”

“ _Your_ dream?” Spencer said, contempt dripping from his words. “This is my job, my family. My entire goddamn life. And you just waltz in here and expect to take over like nothing ever happened?”

You had been his life once.

That, however, was an entire lifetime ago.

You clenched your jaw, your fingers gripping the side of the table. “I’m not taking anything over, _Doctor Reid._ I just want to do my job. I’m not happy about seeing you again either, but I’m trying to be the bigger person.”

“The bigger person? You’re fucking kidding me. After what you did?”

There was a heavy pause, both of you staring at one another. The fury in his eyes was unnerving, out of place even. You had never seen Spencer like this, had never heard him speak to _anyone_ like this. Least of all you.

The air was suddenly stale, and you could feel yourself fighting back angry tears. “What about what you did, Spencer?” you said quietly. “Or is it always just my fault?” You stood up, pushing your files towards him. “You know what? You always did so much better on your own than with me. Have fucking at it.”

And that was it. You stalked out of the conference room, leaving Spencer staring down at the map. An unnatural mixture of shame and resentment sat on his chest like a ton of bricks, making it difficult to breathe, to even think.

Where did he go from here?

He barely saw you for the rest of the case. You quietly requested a new assignment from Hotch, mentioning your particular expertise as a convenient excuse. Anything to get you away from him. And that was that.

Thankfully, despite the tension between you and Spencer, you melded well with the rest of the team. Bouncing ideas off of one another, listening to all of the knowledge they had to offer? It was like no other. All of your years of experience and training hadn’t prepared you for this _―_ for this immense feeling of unity. Your past coworkers had been just that _―_ coworkers and nothing else. These people? It felt like there was the possibility of so much more. Everyone seemed to accept you almost instantly, valuing your contributions despite the fact that you had quite literally joined only a few days ago.

Everyone except Spencer. After that one nasty exchange, you only spoke to him when it was absolutely necessary to exchange ideas or information. It was better that way. It was the _only_ way.

After the case was wrapped, Hotch had told you that you had done good work, and you were actually a little thrown off by the swell of pride you had felt. You belonged here. You knew that, and yet you were still having a hard time believing it.

Maybe things would be easier without the looming memories of the past. Every time you saw Spencer it was like seeing a ghost. A ghost that you had thought was long gone, dead and buried.

You should have known it would come back to haunt you.

Even with the relative ease of the case, you were all left exhausted. Three straight days of non-stop monster chasing would do that to anyone. The jet back was quiet, everyone settling into various states of rest. Derek had sat beside you, the two of you talking and laughing softly. You couldn’t help but notice when Spencer looked your way. His face was almost blank, but you knew better. You could read him _―_ you always could. His eyes were full of bitterness. You let out a sigh without thinking.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, glancing between you and Spencer, who now had his head back in his book, pretending to read.

Spencer, always with the pretending.

“Oh, nothing,” you said with a half-hearted smile. “I just don’t think Doctor Reid likes me very much.” Understatement of the decade.

“Don’t worry, he just needs time to warm up. Once he gets to know you, you’ll be fine.”

Sweet, sweet Derek. If only he knew. _That_ was the entire problem. Nothing that could happen from here would take back what had been done, would restore the color that had once been in your life.

Gray.

Life without Spencer was gray. That was the only way to describe it. Gray and empty, like all of the light had gone out. Where there had once been endless joy and shared secrets, there was nothing.

_Nothing._

It had been like this for so long. You thought you had gotten used to it, to this emptiness, this lack of color. So much time had been spent trying to convince yourself that it was fine _―_ that you were fine.

Who needed to see things in technicolor anyway?

But now, it hurt. The emptiness hurt. All you wanted was that color back, that sparkle that your life once had. But it was gone. If history had anything to say about it, it was gone forever.

You could almost see it, that vague memory of what life used to be. Of what it was like to feel something, _anything,_ besides the aching hollowness in your chest. The hollowness that had been your most trusted companion for the past five years. It was right there, right in front of you, but just out of reach.

That hurt the most.

Eventually, the weariness washed over you, and you found yourself drifting off to sleep. Blissfully back to nothingness. Your head dropped to Derek’s shoulder, more out of sheer comfort than anything else. He shifted in his seat so you could straighten out your neck, already half-asleep himself.

Spencer glanced up from his book once more, watching the two of you out of the corner of his eye. The hostility he felt deep in his stomach shocked even him. When did he become like this?

He didn’t deserve to feel like this. Not after what he had done. His mind was turning so quickly he could hardly keep up, every memory that he had spent so long trying to forget coming to the forefront. Every cruel word, every broken promise. He wanted to blame you. You had started it, had set the heartbreak into motion.

He did blame you sometimes.

But deep down, underneath it all, it was him. His decision, the one that haunted him every day for the last five years, kept replaying in his mind. A rash decision, an instinctive reflex that he had latched onto, and just like that years of light, years of love, destroyed.

How had things gone so utterly and completely wrong?

* * *

 _“I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don’t know what to do with all this hurt right now.”  
_ _― Nina Guilbeau_


	4. THREE — no one to save us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the love and feedback!! <3
> 
> Two things:  
> 1\. **Content Warning** implied/referenced past abuse by Reader's parent (please let me know if there are any additional warnings/tags that should be added- it's not very graphic, but it is there!)
> 
> 2\. _all italics section_ denotes a dream/nightmare

_“There is_ _no one to save us_ _because there is no need to be saved. I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed the front yard.”  
_ _― Matthew Dickman_

* * *

How could time seem to move so quickly and yet not at all? How could you be moving forward when there was something still holding you back?

Not something. Someone.

A someone who threatened to undo you, who made you want to fall apart all over again. You couldn’t let that happen. You wouldn’t.

You were slowly gaining your footing with the team, starting to feel like you were truly supposed to be here. You spoke more, pointing out things that others might have missed or adding on your own knowledge or experiences.

Despite this, it wasn’t getting any easier to ignore Spencer. If anything, it was getting harder. You had to constantly remind yourself to keep your face void of emotion, to not say anything that would give you away.

Your last argument was stuck in the back of your mind. It made you doubt yourself, made you doubt why you were even here. It was a dangerous feeling. You had worked so hard to get here. Everything you had done, you had done for this. He couldn’t take that away from you. He couldn’t take yet another future away from you.

If you let him do that, you would be left even more hollow. There would be nothing left.

After the latest case, you found yourself walking arm in arm with Penelope. The two of you had become fast friends, getting along like wildfire. She was absolutely adorable, and so, so passionate about everything. She was the sunshine you needed in a job as dark as this.

Derek walked on the other side of you, the three of you talking about a movie that had just come out. “We should go see it!” Penelope had squealed when you mentioned it. The thought that she was already willing and ready to hang out with you outside of work had startled you, but in the best way possible.

Spencer was on the far side of the group, beside Derek. He was quiet, and it seemed to you like he didn’t hear a word any of you had said. In reality, he was running through his mental Rolodex of every memory he had with you, trying to figure out exactly how the events of his life had led to this moment.

Although his head was full, he was still coming up empty.

“Reid? You in?” Derek’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. He turned towards the group, your eyes immediately looking anywhere but him. Of course. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him during work, why would you want to be anywhere near him after hours? Spencer shrugged noncommittally as they entered the restaurant. It didn’t matter what he said. He wouldn’t go anyway.

Penelope had brought you all to a local Thai place, gushing about how she had been there years ago and their mango sticky rice had been _to die for_. It wasn’t every day that she got to come on cases with the team, and you knew you couldn’t say no to her even if you wanted to _―_ which you definitely didn’t. Everyone gathered around the table, thrilled for one of their rare nights off. The case was over, the jet not ready until the following morning. It was the perfect opportunity for a night out. You were just happy to be there, to be seen as part of the team. This was all you had wanted.

The waiter eventually came out with the food, handing everyone their dishes. As they placed the last plate on the table, Spencer began to meekly raise his hand. “Here,” you said, thrusting the fork that had come with your food into his open palm. Old habits die hard.

Spencer accepted it almost hesitantly, sputtering out a thanks. Penelope and Derek shared a glance, eyebrows raised at one another. There was a beat of silence as you realized your mistake. You cleared your throat, eyes fixed on your plate before hurriedly continuing the conversation.

It was hard. So very hard to pretend that you didn’t know Spencer. That there wasn’t a time you had known everything about one another. 

Now all that you were left with were a shell of a past and a checklist of memories. Ones both bitter and sweet that you couldn’t erase from your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

The night wore on, everyone content from the delicious food and the time together. You made your way back to the hotel, and the rest of the team excused themselves to their own rooms, sharing good-nights and promises of breakfast the next day.

Derek and Penelope weren’t having it. You lingered in the hallway with them, none of you wanting to go to bed despite the early hour you’d have to be up the next morning. The four of you somehow ended up in Spencer’s room, playing a few rounds of a card game. Spencer still won almost every time. Some things really never change.

You were careful not to exchange more than the necessary words with him _―_ maybe too careful. Penelope and Derek could sense the vaguely uncomfortable atmosphere between the two of you, wondering exactly what was going on. Derek nudged her with his shoulder after you had gone to the bathroom. “Let’s go to bed, Baby Girl.” She started to protest before catching his eye, hurrying to nod with an over-exaggerated yawn.

The two of them left almost immediately, running out of the room with a quiet goodnight. You heard the door click as you exited the bathroom and confusion swept over you for a moment. Spencer was staring at you from his seat on the floor, a sheepish look on his face. You had walked directly into Penelope and Derek’s trap. You made a mental note to _murder_ them later.

You leveled your gaze at Spencer, fire behind your eyes. Without a word, you grabbed your bag from the floor and turned towards the door. Your hand was on the handle when you felt fingers wrap around your arm. Fucking Spencer. He really couldn’t leave well enough alone. You pulled out of his grasp, taking a measured step back. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He stared at you with pleading eyes, his hand recoiling. “Please, Y/N. Can we talk?”

This was exactly what you had been avoiding. You had been hoping to avoid it forever, but you knew that you were fooling yourself. “You’ve already asserted that I’ve ruined your perfect little life. I get it. What else is there to talk about?”

That seemed to rattle him. It was a pretty big list _―_ endless, maybe. He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. Everything?”

“You’re about five years too late."

He sank onto the hotel bed without looking at you. The silence in the room was suddenly palpable. It seemed to encompass everything you wouldn’t _―_ _couldn’t―_ say. You turned back towards the door, fully prepared to leave it at that, when you heard a noise behind you. It was faint, but you knew exactly what it was. You had heard it too many times before. Spencer was crying, trying not to make a sound.

You bit your lip, contemplating your next move. This would not break your resolve. You would not let it get to you. Your commitment to not letting Spencer affect you came back to you as you let the thought harden you, enveloping you like protective armor. You spun around, slowly coming to face him. “Fine,” you sighed. “Let’s talk.”

There was a pause, his head rising from its place in his hands as he looked up at you. It was that same look you had seen so many years ago. That look of surprise that you were still standing there. You shrugged off the memory, pushing sixteen year old Spencer out of your mind.

“I don’t _―_ I don't know where to start.” 

You could feel the bitterness rise back up in you at just how pitiful he sounded. “How about how you left me, Spencer? You just fucking left. After everything. Everything we’d been through. You did the one thing you said you would never do.”

He blinked at you, turning your words over in his head. Something on his face changed, a flash of the same resentment that you had directed at him taking over his perfect features. It looked wrong, like it didn’t belong there.

You had put that look on his face. It was exactly what you deserved.

He stood up abruptly, coming towards you. You were suddenly only inches away from each other. Close. Too close. “You told me you didn’t love me, Y/N. That you _never_ loved me. That you could never be with me. What was I supposed to do with that?” Spencer’s voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes still glistening with tears.

Fuck. You could still hear those words in your ears, still see the heartbroken look he had given you as you lied straight to his face. “I don’t know, I didn’t want you to _leave_!”

“What did you want me to do?”

“You were my best friend. You weren’t supposed to just leave me,” you hissed. “Without a word _―_ without a fucking word! What the fuck kind of asshole move is that?”

Spencer raked his hands through his hair, exasperation across his face. “I know. I know, it was wrong. But you _―_ you destroyed me, Y/N. You destroyed _us._ You did that! You.”

The anger in his words surprised you, making you blink back the tears that threatened to fall. You would not cry in front of him. Not again.

“This wouldn’t even be happening if I didn’t somehow end up at the BAU,” you said, your jaw clenching around the words. “I would have never seen you again. You _―_ you were gone. _Gone,_ Spencer. After everything. It’s been five years of fucking radio silence.”

“Maybe it should have stayed that way,” he shot back.

Of all the things he could have said, that hurt the most. He hated you. You deserved it, you knew that. But he _hated_ you. The thought alone made you want to sob, to disappear into the earth below you. You shuffled your feet, your eyes locking on the floor. “I didn’t mean it,” you whispered.

“Didn’t mean what?”

You stood there in silence, afraid to speak the words that you had held back for all these years. Spencer grabbed hold of your shoulders, the two of you suddenly so close to one another that you could feel his breath on your face. You didn’t push him away. You couldn’t. All you could do was stare at him, stare into those hazel eyes that used to look at you with so much love. Now all you saw was resentment, regret. How had this happened? There had been a time when you had thought he would _never_ look at you like that.

“I think I deserve the truth for once,” he said.

You bit your lower lip in a futile attempt to stop its trembling. “I didn’t mean it,” you repeated, your words hushed. “When I said I didn’t love you. That I _―_ that I didn’t want to be with you.”

He gaped at you, taking a step back as though he had been struck, his hands relinquishing their hold on you. “ _What_?”

“I was _―_ I was trying to protect you, Spencer. I wanted you to figure it out, to see through it. Every day I hoped that you would see through it, but I knew it was better if you didn’t.”

“Protect me from what?” A cloud of confusion came over his face, merging horrifically with the pain that was already there. No matter how much you hated him for leaving, you would always hate yourself more for putting that look on his face. That look would haunt you forever.

It already did.

“You knew about my father. Something would have happened to you if we were together.” You let out a bitter, humourless laugh. “And I was right.”

“What _―_ what do you mean? He got out?" Spencer's thoughts were spinning, confusion washing over him as the questions grew _―_ though he knew that you wouldn't give him an answer. "What happened?”

“That’s not something I want to tell you,” you said dryly. You could feel yourself closing off again, those walls that you had so carefully built going right back up. They had to. You couldn’t let him in. Not again.

Silence fell over the room, both of you reaching your breaking points. This was pointless. Rehashing the old hurt, bringing up the pain that somehow still felt as fresh as it had five years ago. What could he do if you refused to let him in, if you refused to tell him anything? There was nowhere to go from here.

Spencer spoke first, his voice soft. “Where is he?”

“He’s dead. Thank god for the little blessings.” You smiled, but it was a wicked, twisted thing. “Goodnight, Spencer.”

You walked away, leaving him with his head in his hands once again, somehow more bewildered than he had been fifteen minutes ago. You refused to look back as you left the room, slamming the door behind you.

It echoed in the hallway, your head full of words you couldn’t take back and your heart weighed down by mistakes you couldn’t undo.

* * *

_“Y/N! Come here, Y/N!”_

_Spencer. Spencer was in the hotel room with you again. He was right in front of you, almost close enough to touch. His eyes shone at you, familiarly warm and honey-colored. A bright smile graced his face, his arm outstretched and beckoning to you. You reached out, but you couldn’t quite close the distance. Just a little… closer. Your fingers grazed the sleeve of his sweater, just about to grasp his hand, but then―nothing._

_He was gone._

_You blinked and he was back, so close your noses were almost touching. Gone was that warmth, that luminous smile. His eyes were blank, boring into you._

_“Spence?”  
  
_ _A pause and then he grinned at you. This smile was nothing like the ones you knew. There was no love, no joy. Nothing._

_“Spence?” you asked, your voice wavering. “What’s going on?”_

_When he spoke, he didn’t sound like the boy you knew―like the boy you loved. His words echoed, fire suddenly behind his eyes. “Don’t you know, Y/N? You did it.”_

_“Did what?”_

_“Ruined everything. Destroyed me. Destroyed us.” He reached for you, hand wrapping around your wrist. The more you tried to escape his grasp, the tighter he seemed to grip you._

_“Stop―stop it, Spence.” You stepped back, but he only moved closer. His fingers were so tight around your wrist that you could feel the bruises they would leave. “You’re hurting me.”_

_Spencer laughed, a mirthless, empty sound. “Oh, really?_ I’m _hurting_ you _?”_

_Silence as he stared at you. He went to step towards you and you flinched, eyes snapping shut. When you opened them again, the hotel room was gone._

_You were back there. Back in that apartment. The one where all of those memories lived―all of that love, all of that loss._

“I don’t _―_ I don’t love you, Spencer.” _It took you a moment to place the voice. You. It was you. Coming from somewhere long ago, somewhere far away._

_“What is this?”_

_You turned toward Spencer and he raised a finger to his lips. “Sh, just listen.”_

“Y/N, please.” _Spencer’s voice, cracked and laced with tears._ “You don’t _―_ you don’t mean that.”

“I do. I never loved you. This was _―_ this was all just a mistake. It’s over, Spencer. You’re―you’re nothing to me.”

 _A pause and then―_ “Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N? How can you just say that? How can you just _―_ how can you do this to me?”

_You shut your eyes, trying desperately to drown out the voices. “Stop―make it stop, Spence.”_

_“What?” he asked. “You can’t take it? I always knew you were weak―you always have been.”_

_That wasn’t him. You had heard those words before. Your eyes snapped open, turning back towards Spencer. He wasn’t there anymore._

_In his place stood someone you had spent your entire life trying to forget. Someone that you had almost succeeded in erasing. Not quite._

_Gone was the apartment, gone were the distant voices of you and Spencer shouting at one another._

_It was dark. Dark and cold. You could just barely make out the face of the man in front of you, stomach curdling as he sneered._

_“Why―why am I here?” you asked. “Where’s Spencer?”_

_The man just laughed joylessly, stepping towards you. “He’s gone, Y/N. He was weak―just like you. He’s not coming back. There’s no one to save you.”_

_The room began to swim around you, the sounds and smells blending into one another. The man came closer. You took a step back, your feet suddenly knocked out from under you._

_You landed on the ground, dust flying up around you. The man pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicking it open. He crouched down, the flame illuminating the sinister smile that graced his face._

_The flame moved closer, so close you could feel the heat, could smell your hair beginning to burn. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable pain. You knew what came next._

_“Please,” you begged. “Please, Daddy. Don’t do this.”_

* * *

_“There is an ocean of silence between us… and I am drowning in it.”  
_ _― Ranata Suzuki_


	5. FOUR ― war and running and running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love, Happy New Year everyone!! <3
> 
>  **Content Warning** \- brief description of a panic attack

_“I want to make love, but my hair smells of_ _war and running and running_ _.”  
_ _― Warsan Shire_

* * *

_Nine Years Ago_

“Spence?” You knocked on the door again. “Come on, Spence. Let me in.”

A minute passed, then another. Finally the door clicked open. Spencer stood before you, eyes rimmed red. He barely glanced up at you, just stepped aside to let you in.

It had only been a week since Spencer’s eighteenth birthday _―_ and only a few days since he had made the impossible decision to have his mom committed. Spencer had talked to you about it, at least a little, up until the day it actually happened. It wasn’t much more than a few murmured words here and there, but at least it was something. After that, it was like he had just shut down completely. He only answered your calls to reassure you that he was okay, but he wouldn’t say anything more. There would be a minute or two of silence on both ends before the inevitable hang-up.

_Okay._

That was the farthest thing from the truth and you both knew it.

The relief you felt just seeing him was indescribable. He wasn’t okay, but he was _there_. He was right there with you. You flopped down on the couch, pulling Spencer next to you. It was silent as you waited for him to talk. Knowing him, if you pushed he would just shut down further. All you could do was let him come to you, let him let you in. You took his hand in yours, traced soft circles onto his palm.

There was no telling how much time passed, the two of you like this _―_ his hand in yours, the only sound in the room his shuddering breaths.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his words barely audible. “I can’t stop hearing it.”

“Hearing what?”

“Her _―_ my mom. It’s like all I can hear is her screaming, asking me why I’m doing this to her.” He paused. “Does it _―_ does it get better? Does it ever stop feeling like your fault?”

You inhaled sharply, the implications of his question all too obvious.

Spencer stared up at you with his wide doe-eyes, tears threatening to spill.

“Spence.” You laced your fingers with his, your voice soft. “My father’s in federal prison for kidnapping and attempted murder. He _ _―__ he only got caught _because_ of me and my mom. Your mother _―_ you sent her to that home to get help. It’s not a punishment, Spence. You did it to help her. Those are two completely different things.”

“But _―_ but does it ever stop?”

You sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe one day.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear and you knew it, but it was the truth. You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, to pretend that it would ever truly stop hurting.

The tears finally fell as he all but collapsed into you, your arms wrapping around him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, choking back a sob. It wasn’t meant for you and you knew it. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You smoothed back his hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You did the best you could. It’s not your fault, Pumpkin.”

* * *

_Present Day_

A chilly sort of silence had fallen over you and Spencer. Since that night in the hotel room, there had been a kind of shift. Things had somehow gotten even more confused than they already were.

It hurt more now. You hadn’t thought that was possible.

Maybe you should have expected as much. When something so beautiful and pure turns into something hideous, it’s bound to destroy you.

You did your best to continue ignoring him, only interacting when you had to for work. All you could think about was the fact that he hated you. The thought consumed you, threatened to drag you down. Why did you care? You didn’t want to. You _shouldn’t_ care. It should have made it easier. If Spencer hated you, you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Why didn’t it make it any easier?

Spencer’s own head was swimming with questions. What had happened? What were you not telling him? It was something terrible, that was all he knew for certain. He just wanted you to be able to tell him, for you to be able to let him in. It looked like that wasn’t going to happen. You hated him. That was all he was certain of. When he really thought about it, it was exactly what he deserved.

He had spent so long being bitter about the way you had pushed him away that he hadn’t stopped to consider exactly _why_ you had done it. He had been so blindsided at the time, completely and utterly heartbroken. You had been each other’s best friends, each other’s everything. And then it was over. His first instinct had been to flee. He couldn’t stop himself. It was the only thing he knew. He had been left so many times before, abandoned by those who were supposed to care about him the most. Those who said they would never leave.

He had become what he had always hated. What he had said he would never be. He had become the one who left. The one who had given up.

It was the coward’s way out and he knew it, but it was the only thing he could think of. He couldn’t stay. Not when he loved you, when you were the only person he wanted. The only person he _needed_. There was no future there for him anymore. Not without you. The perfect opportunity had presented itself when BAU legend Jason Gideon himself had contacted him. The perfect escape.

Spencer struggled to reconcile the memories of seventeen year old you with the you in front of him. You with your kevlar vest, your gun in hand as you approached the cabin that Penelope had led the team to while on the hunt for the latest unsub. You looked so different, so hardened compared to the person who he had once known better than anyone. And yet, he knew that you were still the same. That made it hurt all the more.

The team crept towards the ancient building silently, splitting up upon reaching the entrance. You, Spencer, and Derek headed towards the back with the rest taking the front. The outside air was cold and dry, the wind biting your skin as you tried to ignore it. The only focus was on reaching the two hostages inside. Time was running out, but the profile had led you here and you could only hope that it wasn’t too late.

Derek opened the door with a squeak, opting not to kick it down _for once_. You always teased him for that. Spencer tried not to be jealous of the easy way you interacted with him, starting from the very moment you had met. He had no right to be, not after everything, but it still hurt. There had once been a time where you had been like that with him. When you had talked and laughed and teased him like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was the only thing that made sense. 

Now it was like you couldn’t even look directly at him for fear of getting burned.

You followed Derek and Spencer into the cabin, clearing each of the rooms. There was the distinct sound of a scuffle upstairs, and you motioned to the two of them to follow you. “FBI!” Derek burst into the room first, the unsub hastily pulling one of the hostages in front of him, gun pressed to her cheek. 

You and Spencer followed behind, the smell of burnt flesh and firewood filling your nostrils as you entered. _That smell._ It hit you like a slap to your face, a memory that you had spent so long shoving down re-emerging with the sole intent of suffocating you. It almost knocked you off your feet, suddenly making you lose your grasp on reality. You tried to find your way back, but you couldn’t. You weren’t there anymore. You shut your eyes for just a fleeting second, somehow transported to somewhere far away, to some time long ago.

Not long enough.

“Drop your weapon,” Derek spoke calmly, his gun trained on him as Hotch entered behind the three of you. You could just barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. “It’s over, man.”

Everything after that happened so fast. The unsub made no move to let the hostage go, instead holding her closer to him, the gun moving to her temple, his finger on the trigger. No words that anyone said were going to convince him to let her go. The profile had told you that suicide by cop was a clear endgame in his plan. You had a clear shot _―_ you could have taken it, you _should_ have taken it. Instead, you stood frozen in your place, eyes unseeing, hands shaking.

Spencer looked towards you, waiting for you to make your move. When he saw the absolute terror written across your face, he couldn’t waste any more time. He turned back to the unsub, shooting him before he had the chance to pull the trigger on the woman in front of him. He fell with an unceremonious thud and it was over. It was _over_.

The next few moments passed by in a blur, Derek and Spencer ushering the hostages out of the room to the waiting ambulance. Hotch’s gaze felt as though it was boring into you, his mouth set in a hard line as he watched you suddenly snap back into self-awareness.

You blinked, exhaling as tears sprang to your eyes. “I _―_ I’m sor _―_ ”

Hotch cut you off. “We will discuss this later.” With that he turned and left, leaving you alone in the empty room, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath.

You stood there for another brief moment, the room beginning to spin around you. Out. You had to get out. You ran into the hallway blindly, stumbling down the stairs. In your haste, you knocked into something. Maybe someone? You didn’t bother to check, instead sprinting past the gravel driveway and down the road, past the lights of the ambulance, past the sounds of your teammates.

You sank down to the ground, kicking up dust as you gasped, desperately trying to inhale the fresh air. _One, two, three, four, five, six―_ your internal counting was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Y/N?” Spencer. Of course it was Spencer. You turned away from him, wiping your face hastily in a fruitless attempt to hide the panic on it. He crouched down beside you, the closest he had dared to be to you since that night in the hotel.

“Leave me alone.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice softer. “What happened?” You might have thought that he was just asking what happened in the cabin, nothing more, if you hadn’t known him the way you did. He knew. Of course he knew. Even before he was a profiler he had always been able to read you.

You finally looked at him, narrowing your eyes as you studied one another. There was something on his face that looked a lot like… pity? You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t _need_ it. You didn’t need anything from Spencer Reid. You had made sure of that. “You don’t get to know that, Spencer. You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

***

If looks could kill, you would have been dead the instant you walked into Hotch’s office. As it was, it felt like your entire being was withering up under his stare.

He shut the door behind you. “Have a seat.”

You perched uncomfortably on the edge of your chair, acutely aware of how sweaty your palms were. He hated you. He was going to fire you. If you had been able to think of something worse at that particular moment, you would have thought it. As it was, you were terrified.

“What happened yesterday was unacceptable. You could have gotten one of the hostages killed _―_ or Reid or Morgan. Or yourself, for that matter.” Hotch spoke flatly, but you could feel yourself coming undone. “That cannot happen again.”

You nodded at him, swallowing the lump in your throat before speaking. “I _―_ I’m sorry, sir. I know that there aren’t any words to make it better. But it won’t happen again.”

He studied your face for a second before nodding in return. “Y/N.” His voice was softer now, causing you to shift your gaze from his desk to him. “What happened?”

Silence settled over the office as you struggled to figure out exactly how much to tell him. “It _―_ it was the smell,” you choked out. “It smelled like _―_ like somewhere I had been. Where something _―_ something terrible had happened. But it was a long time ago.”

Hotch seemed to turn your words over in his mind, the briefest flash of sympathy gracing his face. “If you ever need to talk to someone, my door’s open. The Bureau also has a range of counseling available. I’m not mandating it for now, but if there’s another issue in the field it _will_ be required.”

“Absolutely, sir. Completely understood.” You nodded shakily, the relief that you _weren’t_ being fired washing over you. You hadn’t ruined your new job beyond repair. Yet.

The dreaded meeting finally over, you scurried out of his office, pointedly avoiding the stares of your teammates as you rushed by. For profilers, they sure were terrible at pretending not to be blatantly waiting to see what had happened. The shuffling of files and the way they rapidly dispersed back to their own desks gave them away.

You offered Derek a watery smile and he patted you on the shoulder as you passed. The motion didn’t go unnoticed by Spencer, his eyes following you. Even just that little action spoke volumes, more than you would even dare allow him. Despite this, he found himself standing up from his desk, heading in the same direction as you.

Safely away from the prying eyes of your teammates, you tucked yourself into a corner, trying to catch your breath. The meeting had gone as well as it could. You knew that, and yet you couldn’t seem to get your bearings. You had almost fucked up the one thing you had wanted more than anything.

Well, almost anything.

The sound of someone walking down the hallway made you stand up straighter, wiping the tears that had somehow made their way onto your cheeks. This _had_ to stop _―_ you couldn’t keep breaking down over every tiny thing, but it was too much. Everything was too much. You had thought you were over it _―_ it being, well everything. So much time had passed and yet, it wasn’t enough.

“Y/N?”

It was Spencer. Why did it always have to be Spencer? It didn’t make sense. He hated you.

Right?

If he really, truly hated you, then why was he always there? Always finding you, always prying? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? There was nothing left to say, nothing that could be done to make things better. It was too late for that.

You tried to walk past him, determined not to say a word, but he stood resolutely in your way. “Move,” you hissed.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

There was silence as the two of you stared at one another, that same sorrow flashing across his face. If only you could wipe that look off his face. It would be so much easier if he would stop looking at you like that. Like he cared. You just wanted to keep hating him, to keep that one venomous memory at the forefront of your mind.

“Talk to me, Y/N. We’ve always been able to tell each other anything.”

You let out a scoff at that. “Things are different now, Spencer. You don’t even know who I am.” You watched his face fall at your words before shoving him with your shoulder and continuing down the hall.

“Please, don’t walk away from me!” he called to your back.

“I learned from the best,” you shot back without turning around. “Didn’t you?” It was a low blow, even for you, but you said it anyway. You said it just to hurt him, just to see if you could make him feel something.

Tears stung your eyes as you walked away. When did you become like this? The old you would have never tried to torment Spencer the way you had.

But then again, you hadn’t thought that the old Spencer would have done what he’d done.

* * *

 _“Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching.”  
_ _― Gabriel García Márquez_


	6. FIVE ― the wrong thing

_“One of the most difficult things to think about in life is one’s regrets. Something will happen to you, and you will do the wrong thing, and for years afterward you will wish you had done something different.”  
_ _― Lemony Snicket_

* * *

Georgia. For some reason, you had never imagined that your new job at the BAU would find you in Helen, Georgia of all places. You had been there before, just once. You and Spencer.

You tried to push away the memory of the road trip, the two of you singing along poorly with the radio, the nights shared in crappy little motel rooms. You had stretched out the drive as long as possible, not wanting those nights to end _―_ not being able to get enough of each other.

That was an entire lifetime ago.

A lifetime, and yet you could remember it like it was yesterday. The way his hand felt in yours as you laid on the hood of your car, the gentle chirping of crickets serving as background noise as he pointed out constellations. Sparkling. Everything sparkled _―_ the bright lights, the night sky, Spencer’s eyes as they searched yours.

Gray. Life was gray now, dull. It was the way it was meant to be, the way it was _going_ to be. There was no changing it.

You tried to shove the thoughts that haunted you aside. The cases served as a sick kind of relief, a distraction from the memories that felt like they might make you suffocate. They were something for you to sink yourself into, to get lost in. You were doing something important―that was what mattered.

You desperately tried to recenter yourself as the team gathered at the precinct. There was no time to think about it, not now. Now what mattered was the profile, ending this before someone else got hurt. The unsub had a fairly small hunting zone, only a few miles at most. It seemed like your best bet would be to get out on the streets tonight. The profile indicated that while this unsub was extremely dangerous (when were they not?), he wasn’t the most sophisticated of criminals. There was a fairly good chance you could catch him in the act. It was all a matter of chance and knowing where to look and who to look for.

Once the preliminary profile was set, all that was left was the game plan for the night. Assignments were given out as to who would survey where, with the goal of covering as much land as possible.

“We need to stake out that bar,” Derek stated, pointing to the location right in the center of the radius. “According to their credit card records, almost all of the victims visited there within three days of the murders. Smack dab in the middle of his hunting zone.”

Hotch nodded. “I’ve checked it out already. It’s a fairly high-end establishment. The majority of the patrons seemed to be about college age. We can set someone up behind the bar to get the best vantage point.”

Emily and Derek’s heads turned towards Rossi. He held up his hands instantly, shaking his head. “Nope, my bartending skills are a little too old fashioned for some yuppy college kids.”

“Oh, okay,” Emily scoffed. “So it’s not okay for me to call you a grumpy old man, but _you_ can play the age card when it’s convenient?”

“Those are two very different things.” Rossi raised an eyebrow as chuckles arose around the room.

Your eyes were trained on the map, studying the area around the bar. “I’ll do it.”

The laughter stopped at your words. “What?” asked Derek.

“I’ll do it.”

Hotch studied you, mulling over the idea in his mind. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I was a bartender back in college. I make a _mean_ martini.” You turned to the group, them all studying you with varied expressions. Hotch and JJ seemed to be turning over your suggestion, Rossi nodding at you in agreement. Spencer, on the other hand, had an almost unreadable look on his face, mouth open and eyes wide; all you knew was that he was blatantly staring at you. And yet, he said nothing. _Typical._

After a few more minutes of discussion, the team finally settled on an agreement. You would go undercover at the bar with everyone else staked out in a five mile radius around your location. While there was a good bet that that was the unsub’s hunting ground, there were a few other spots that needed to be covered, and they had to be sure that they didn’t miss anything.

Hours passed, the plan solidifying as the sun went down. Once it was late enough, everything was set in motion.

“Where’s Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Back here,” you called from behind a closet door. “I look ridiculous.”

Spencer finally said exactly what he had been thinking since the moment you had suggested it. “You don’t have to do this.” You didn’t. He struggled to place exactly why he felt so strongly about it, but all he knew was that he didn’t _want_ you to do it. He couldn’t make it make sense, but he felt it in his gut.

He knew all too well how wrong things could go.

“I’m fine,” you bit back with a snap, pushing open the closet door and stepping out. JJ had worked her magic, helping you pull together an outfit in record time _―_ dress pants that fit so well they could be tailored, a black button up, sleek lace up boots, and a crisp maroon blazer to top it all off. It was pretty convincing, you had to give her that.

You spun around with a twirl, arms out in the air dramatically. “What do you think?”

“If this is what you call ridiculous, then count me _in_ ,” Emily said with a smirk. “You look hot.”

You snorted, elbowing her in the side. “Oh shush.”

The team slowly began to disperse, preparing to head out to their various assignments. Hotch was all business as usual, checking that you had your earpiece and everything you would need before heading out. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“Yes, sir. Don’t worry, Hotch, this isn’t my first undercover mission. Besides, you’ve all got my back, right?”

He nodded, just the hint of a smile on his face. “Of course we do.”

“Then I’ve got this.” You said it with more confidence than you felt, grinning at Hotch on your way out of the conference room.

All you needed was your bag. You made your way to the small storage closet where the remnants of your attempt at dress up remained, but it looked as though someone else had gotten there first.

That someone was Spencer. Of course it was. It was like the harder you tried to avoid him, the more you found him in your orbit. Once upon a time that may have been a blessing, a sign that things were as they were meant to be. Now it just left a sour taste in your mouth, that hollowness in your chest somehow more intense than ever before.

You grabbed your bag from the hook on the wall, barely sparing a glance at Spencer. You couldn’t. But of course, he couldn’t leave well enough alone. He had never been able to. You used to love that about him, used to find his stubbornness so wildly endearing. Now you just wanted a way to make him stop. Any way.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

His words were soft, but they hit you like a slap to the face. He had no right to question you, to act like he cared. You gaped at him for a brief second before stepping towards him.

He flinched, a look of panic crossing his face. It was minute, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but you caught it. The satisfaction it gave you was twisted, unnerving even. If you thought about it for longer than a moment it might actually make you sick. You had never thought you would want Spencer to look at you like that, to react to you like that. It was unimaginable. But if it would make him leave you alone, make him let those dead memories rest, you would do anything.

“You have no right,” you spit out, reaching for the door as you turned away from him. “No fucking right.”

And yet, you still couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how hard you might try. Fate seemed to have other plans and you found yourself squished into the backseat in between Emily and Spencer as you made your way to the various dropoff sites. Spencer had refused to look at you since you stepped out from the storage closet. You had caught him glancing at you once, his face turning bright red when you locked eyes with him. Since then, it had been nothing but incredibly uncomfortable silence.

Hotch pulled over a block away from the bar, informing you that you had to check in every twenty minutes. You put up a bit of a fight, arguing that that was just excessive, but there was no winning. Even Spencer had mumbled “ _Just do it_ ” under his breath. That had thrown you off for a second, but you brushed it off, climbing out of the car awkwardly.

There was a sharp whistle from across the street as you approached the bar. You tried to hold back your grimace, head down as you went through the staff entrance in the back.

A loud blast of music hit you as you entered and headed over to the manager, ducking under the bar. One look around and you suddenly realized how difficult it might be to pick out the unsub if he was here. They all looked like some various level of entitled jerk with untreated rage issues _―_ it seemed to be the general consensus of most of the patrons.

You reminded yourself of the profile and the facts. You knew what you were doing. The urge to prove yourself on your first real assignment with the team melded with the drive to stop this unsub before he could hurt anyone else. You could do this.

One eye on the crowd, you set about making drinks. Most of it came back easily, luckily enough, and time flew by in a blur of cocktails and a sea of faces.

Almost two hours had passed, the team checking in regularly. No one outside had seen anything out of the ordinary, and you were starting to lose hope. Either tonight wasn’t the night or this creep was out there somewhere else.

You were about to ask if you should call it a night when someone caught your eye. He had entered only a few minutes ago and looked vaguely uncomfortable, shifty almost. He flitted around the bar, seeming to survey the crowd group by group. Nothing else stood out immediately, but you reminded yourself that the profile had said that that would be the case. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him.

Your instincts were right. You watched as a woman left through the back exit, phone to her ear and cigarette in hand. There was a moment’s pause before the man stood up, glancing around before heading out in the same direction.

“Hotch, I think I got something,” you whispered. “He left through the back exit to the alleyway. I’m going out there.”

 _“Alright,”_ came his response through your earpiece. “ _I’m sending Rossi and Reid.”_

You gave him an affirmative, pushing the door open slowly and stepping into the dimly lit alley. You silently thanked JJ for finding the perfect bag that had matched your outfit _and_ fit your gun inside.

The alley was quiet and you debated if you should wait for backup or continue. You hesitated, gun in hand. The unsub had been stabbing his victims, so you were at least fairly certain that you would have the upperhand on the weapon front. Your decision was made for you when there was a muffled scream followed by the sound of heels scraping on concrete.

You rounded the corner quickly, coming face to face with the man from earlier. “FBI, put your hands up!” It was never that simple though. Instead, he pulled the woman in front of him, his knife pressed to her throat.

He made no move to let her go, no matter what you said to him. Where the hell were Rossi and Spencer? You didn’t want to admit that you needed backup, but right now you really wouldn’t mind it.

More words were exchanged and you watched as the expression on the man’s face shifted. This was it. He wasn’t going to let her go and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He moved to thrust the knife into the woman’s throat and you fired, hitting him in the shoulder. As he fell to the ground, footsteps echoed down the alleyway. About time.

You recited the facts to Rossi and Spencer, your hands now pressed to the wound on the man’s shoulder in an effort to stop the bleeding. He was still breathing, and you figured from where you had hit him that he would almost certainly be fine. Behind bars, thankfully, but fine.

Rossi patted you on the shoulder, giving you a warm smile. “Excellent work, kiddo. I’ll stay with him. Get out of here and get yourself cleaned up.”

You thanked him before heading towards the SUVs. It was over. Your first solo takedown _―_ over. You let out a shaky breath, almost falling over when you realized someone was behind you. Spencer. You really couldn’t catch a goddamn break.

“Good work,” he murmured. You barely glanced back at him, simply walking faster. He caught up to you easily, once again refusing to take the hint.

You said nothing, staring resolutely ahead. He mumbled something else and you could feel your patience snap. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? “What did you say?”

He gaped at you, almost surprised that you had even acknowledged him. “I was _―_ I was just worried about you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

You let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “That’s funny, I thought that that was _exactly_ what you wanted.”

Spencer stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as he watched you walk away. Somehow you always knew just what to say to inflict maximum pain. There had been a time where that wit of yours had resulted in side-splitting laughs and sheepish grins. Now it just left the two of you with hostility in your throats.

How did you get to this point?

***

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet as Derek drove, you in the passenger seat, and Emily in the back.

The stars in Georgia still shone the same. At least some things didn’t change. You tilted your head out of the rolled down window of the SUV, breathing deeply.

Derek glanced over. “You alright? You did a great job tonight, Y/N. I know it can't have been easy.”

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine.” You nodded, turning towards him. “It's not that. It's _―_ it’s just been a long time since I’ve been to Georgia.”

He let out a hum of acknowledgment, tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs.

“You too?”

“Almost three years.” He made no move to say more. When you looked in the rear view mirror, you saw the hardened look on Emily’s face. She caught your eye, merely raising an eyebrow.

That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Rough case?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. The BAU was no stranger to depraved violence, but from the looks on both of their faces it felt like there was more to that story.

“Yep,” Emily said with a sigh. “It was one of my first cases with the BAU. JJ and Reid went to interview a witness who turned out to be the unsub. They split up and… Reid was taken.”

Your jaw dropped and you glanced back at Emily again. “Taken?”

She just nodded.

“What happened?”

Emily pursed her lips. “We got him back, but only after two days. It… it was bad.”

It sounded like the understatement of the century.

There was a pause before Derek finally spoke. “The rest is Reid’s story to tell. You’ll have to ask him.”

Emily sighed again, but said no more.

You could only guess what that sigh meant. It said so much without a single word, held so much weight. Derek made it seem so simple―just ask him. As if you could. As if it would make a difference.

You shifted to face the window, silence settling over the car once more. Eyes trained on the stars above, you turned over Derek and Emily’s words in your mind. _Two days_. You could only imagine what had happened to Spencer in those two days. He must have been terrified, in pain, alone _―so alone_. Your heart clenched at the thought. All you could think about was Spencer _―_ little, kind, gentle _Spence_ , trapped in a place where there had once only been beautiful memories.

Must everything be ruined eventually?

***

Back at the hotel, you slammed your door shut, sinking to the floor and shutting your eyes. Blissfully alone. You let out a gasp, tears suddenly making their way down your cheeks. It was so much. Too much. It had been the best possible outcome. That woman had lived, the unsub would be behind bars. You knew that, and yet you couldn’t stop crying.

Your mind was swimming, full of so much information, so much confusion. Spencer’s words replayed in your head. _“I didn’t want you to get hurt.”_ Did he? Did he really?

Part of you wanted to know, wanted to find out. If you were hurt, would he be there? Would he care? You were terrified that he wouldn’t. All you could picture was that empty hospital room, you by yourself for so many days. No friends, no family, no _Spencer._ Completely alone. Why should it be any different now?

The one person who you had trusted completely, who you had given your whole heart _―_ just gone. Like maybe he had never been there to begin with.

But then again, hadn't you done the same thing to him? What made it any different? The two of you had broken everything―promises, trust, _each other_. 

After a few more minutes of pity, you picked yourself up. You needed to get it together. It was fine. Everything was _fine_. You told yourself that over and over. Maybe if you repeated it enough, you would begin to believe it. The team had plans to meet in the hotel bar after everyone was back, and you couldn’t go looking like you did now. Looking as pathetic as you felt. It was better to leave the past alone, to let it go. If only it were that easy.

After finally collecting yourself, you met everyone downstairs, as they had insisted on celebrating your first takedown. You shoved aside any thought of Spencer as best you could, opting to revel in the feeling of the team _―your_ team―toasting you for your accomplishment. This was it. This was where you belonged.

He couldn’t take that away from you. You wouldn’t let him.

The drinks flowed, all of you laughing loudly in the tiny bar as they told you stories of some of their most ridiculous cases.

“Wow, you’ve been on some _crazy_ cases.” You blinked away tears of laughter, leaning back in your chair. “I had no idea the BAU could be so wild.”

“Oh, you have no idea. Guys, remember that one in LA _―_ ”

Spencer’s eyes snapped up from the drink that he had been idly stirring. “ _Morgan."_

Derek laughed, smirking at him. “No need to be ashamed.”

That got your attention. Despite your resolute commitment to continuing to not know anything about Spencer Reid, you wanted to know. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t help but ask as you took a sip of your drink, wincing. _Jesus_. Emily always got you the strongest ones. “What happened?”

Derek leaned towards you, his eyes lighting up as Emily and JJ giggled across from him. Spencer stared at the table, a flush crawling up his cheeks. “Some somethin’-somethin’ with a cute blonde and a pool. Pretty sure that was Pretty Ricky’s first kiss.”

Whoa. Definitely not what you had expected him to say. You really didn’t know anything about Spencer. You ignored the odd sting you felt, instead snorting out, “Uh huh, I’m sure.”

You only realized the strange tone you had spit out the words with when you looked back up to see everyone at the table except for Spencer staring at you with varied expressions of confusion. You gulped down the remnants of your drink hurriedly, standing up and tugging Emily by the arm. “Come on, let’s get another drink.”

Derek and JJ didn’t miss the way Spencer’s eyes followed you, a twisted, bittersweet look on his face. They glanced at one another. Something was up.

***

“Where the _fuck_ is my key?” you mumbled, patting your pockets again. No luck. It took you a moment to figure out your next step through the haze of the last several drinks. Downstairs. It had to be in the lobby.

You clomped down the stairs in those same combat boots from earlier, your steps echoing. Of course you’d lose your key when the only thing you wanted was to sleep _―_ for the foreseeable future, preferably.

Your bag was exactly where you had left it, nestled snugly in one of the hideous green armchairs. What you _didn’t_ expect to find was Spencer at the other end of the lobby. He was staring out the window, curled up on a couch with his arms wrapped around his legs.

You started back towards the stairs, but something made you stop in your tracks. You sighed, spinning around and walking quietly across the tile floor.

“You okay?”

Spencer blinked up at you, surprise flitting across his face before he nodded.

He always _had_ been a lousy liar. Part of you wanted to just let it lie, to just turn away, but a smaller voice in the back of your mind wouldn’t let you. All you could think about was that conversation with Emily and Derek.

He hated you. He didn’t want to look at you, much less talk to you. And yet you couldn’t walk away. Even with all of the hurt in the world, all of the regret you could imagine, he was still Spencer. He was still that same fumbling, endearing boy you had fallen in love with. The thought of someone hurting him, doing unspeakable things to him? It made you feel ill. You had promised him once that you would always be there for him and you had broken that promise.

It wasn’t the first time you had let him down, but it was the one that cut the deepest.

Your feet remained cemented in place as you hovered next to the couch. You almost wanted to sit down beside him, but you couldn’t. It seemed like something that should be so easy, so simple, but you couldn’t.

“The stars are the same.”

You would have thought that you had imagined him saying it if you didn’t see his mouth move, if you didn’t catch the way he gazed up at the night sky.

“Spencer,” you said quietly. You wanted to know, so desperately, but you didn’t want to ask. There was no reason for him to tell you, to let you in. You had pushed away every attempt he had made to get you to do the same. And yet. “What happened?”

His eyes snapped back to yours, his face too blank to be anything but practiced. “They told you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, plain and accusatory.

You shook your head. “Not really. They just _―_ they told me that you… you were taken. And hurt. And I’m sorry that that happened to you.”

“ _Sorry_?” The bitterness with which he spit out the word caught you off guard.

You swallowed, shoving your hands in your pockets and nodding.

Spencer huffed out a breath. “ _Now_ you want to talk to me? _Now_ you want to know what happened _―_ what happened in all these years without you?” He rose from the couch and you took a step backwards, almost knocking over a fake plant in the process.

All of the pent up hostility, all of your anger? It all seemed to dissipate at his words, at the look on his face. All you could feel was that hurt. Hurt and regret. So much regret that it felt as though it would swallow you whole. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. There wasn’t anything more you could say, nothing that sounded quite right.

“Really?” Spencer continued despite your silence, suddenly ablaze. “You really think I’m going to tell _you_ anything? You’ve done nothing but push me away since the moment you got here. _Again._ You don’t deserve to know.”

Tears filled your eyes and you desperately tried to blink them away. “God, Spencer. Fucking sue me for caring that something happened to you, for wanting to make sure that you’re okay.”

There was a heavy silence as he stared at you. He crossed his arms around himself. “You know what you sound like?”

You shook your head, gnawing on your bottom lip. Whatever he was going to say, all you knew was that you didn’t want to hear it.

“You sound like a fucking hypocrite. ‘Okay.’ Sure, I’m absolutely great.” He let out a sharp laugh, full of nothing but bitterness. “You know, Y/N, you’re not the only person that’s gone through some things.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“You seem to think the entire goddamn universe revolves around you.” With that, Spencer grabbed his bag from the couch, turning on his heel and heading towards the stairwell.

You stood rooted in place, watching as he disappeared through the doorway. His words ran through your head again and again, the anger and hurt in his eyes impossible to forget. You sank down onto the couch, your unshed tears finally falling.

* * *

 _“I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether to tell them to you again. I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it.”  
_ _― David Levithan_


	7. SIX ― it felt like home

_“I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and i would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long,_ _it felt like home_ _with you.’”  
_ _―_ _Azra Tabassum_

* * *

Spencer’s words rang in your head day after day. He was right. You shouldn’t be surprised―he was _always_ right.

Part of you wished you had never asked, that you had just walked away from him that night in the hotel lobby. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe then you wouldn’t be wishing that there was a way for you to fix things. It was easier to be angry, to push him away. It was a way to make sense out of this whole convoluted mess.

The issue was there was no true way to make this make sense.

This thought occupied your mind as you lingered outside of the coffee shop. A tray of drinks sat in the passenger seat beside you. All plain, black coffees. All except for one. You stared at the cup―a hot, sickly sweet vanilla latte topped with whipped cream. Spencer’s favorite. At least, it had been his favorite back when you knew him. You picked up the cup and slid off the coffee sleeve, marker in hand. You stared at it for a moment before finally settling on two words― _I’m sorry_. It didn’t feel like enough, but it was something. You drew a tiny pumpkin beside the words before sliding the sleeve back on.

Despite the time that had passed, you wondered if he would still look, if he still thought about those messages every time he got a cup of coffee―you still did. You and Spencer always used to leave each other messages like this, hidden under your coffee sleeves.

You and Spencer used to do a lot of things.

***

“Happy Friday! Coffee on me.” Your announcement was met with a chorus of oohs and thank yous as you walked through the bullpen, drinks in hand. You set them on the desk, the team flocking to you and grabbing the cups. “Cream and sugar in the bag.”

You handed one directly to Spencer, the action causing him to blink at you in surprise. He took a tentative sip and raised his eyebrows. His favorite.

“Pretty Boy, here.” Derek went to hand Spencer the paper bag, expecting him to need his usual copious amounts of sugar.

“Thanks, I’m good.” He walked back to his desk without another word. Derek glanced at Emily, eyebrows raised. She just shrugged back at him, equally as confused about what had just happened. 

Penelope stood behind them, eyes snapping from you to Spencer as the dots began to connect in her head. The fork. The bar (JJ had told her, of course). The coffee. The strange, uncomfortable way you interacted with one another. It was suddenly starting to make sense. She marched over to Spencer, pulling him away from the bullpen by the arm, much to his chagrin.

“You know them,” Penelope hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. She watched his face for a second, judging his reaction to her words. “Oh my god, you _know them_ know them.”

Spencer pursed his lips, shifting from foot to foot. “I don’t know what that means.”

She whacked him on the arm, earning a glare from him and a defeated _ow._ “Don’t play dumb with me, Boy Genius.”

Spencer toyed with the cup in his hand, sliding down the coffee sleeve as he avoided Penelope’s gaze. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the all too familiar handwriting. He slid the sleeve back up with a start and let out a sigh, long and slow. “I used to know them. It was a long time ago.”

* * *

_Ten Years Ago_

“I look stupid.” The groan came from behind the bathroom door. “I’m not wearing this.”

You laughed, leaning against the wall as you waited for him. “You never look stupid, Spence. I think it’s ‘statistically impossible.’ Come on out.”

The door opened with a tentative squeak, Spencer stepping out from behind it. A smile spread across your face as you looked him up and down. He wore a giant bright orange t-shirt, about four sizes too big, with a jack o’lantern face painted onto it. On his head was a matching orange beret with a green stem that you had glued on top of it. He looked absolutely adorable. You told him as much, giggling as his face turned beet red. What a doofus.

“Pumpkin Spence!” you squealed, jumping up and clapping. “Oh my god. Pumpkin Spence. Like pumpkin spice? Get it?”

“I get it,” he said with a huff, rolling his eyes at you, but he couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at his lips. “The things I do for you.”

“You love me,” you shot back easily, turning to grab the rest of your skeleton costume before heading out. He stood there behind you, unmoving and eyes wide. You called over your shoulder, “You coming, Pumpkin?”

* * *

_Present Day_

**_911 Emergency!!!!_ **

Derek rolled his eyes at the text before pocketing his phone and heading toward the batcave. He had literally just seen Penelope about five minutes ago. There was about a one percent chance that this was an actual emergency. Knowing her, it was something sneaky as all hell.

“ _Shut the door!_ ” she hissed before spinning back towards her monitors.

He was right. Sneaky as hell. He rested his hands on her shoulders, leaning over to see what she was looking at. “What’s this about?”

Penelope rolled her eyes as though his obliviousness was the most frustrating thing in the world. “Y/N and Reid. Something’s up. They know each other. How do they know each other?”

“Jesus, I _knew_ something was off about the two of them,” Derek said. “Reid’s been walking around here like a kicked puppy ever since they started.” He watched as Penelope began to pull up your media pages, booping her on the nose when he realized what she was doing. “Baby Girl, it’s none of our business.”

She glared at him through her hot pink glasses, daring him to contradict her. “Tell me you don’t want to know!”

Now that would just be a blatant lie. “Fine,” he sighed, crossing his arms, “but nothing you can’t find on the internet. None of your super sleuthing.”

“Oh angel, all of my sleuthing is super. Fret not, we’ll stick to what’s available on the world wide web.” She typed rapidly, clicking around and pulling up sites in only a way Penelope Garcia could. “Oh look, they have a Flickr account!”

“It hasn’t been updated in years.”

She shot a look at him before turning back to the screen. “Well, duh. Who uses Flickr anymore? Ooh, but there’s a private folder nested under here.”

“ _Penelope,_ ” he chastised. There had to be a line. And yet...

“Tell me, Hot Chocolate. _Tell me_ you don’t want to know.”

Derek let out another sigh, which she immediately took as assent, continuing her cyber-digging.

“It’s called ‘Pumpkin Spice,’ what the hell could that mean?” She clicked it, the screen filling with pictures. Her jaw dropped as her eyes scanned the photos. “Oh. Oh sweet mother of _―_ is that Reid? _Our_ Reid? And Y/N?”

That caught Derek’s attention and he leaned closer to see. Sure enough, it was you and Spencer. Much younger, but recognizable anywhere. There were hundreds of photos, most of them selfies _―_ the two of you at the fair, in a dorm room, at a haunted house, anywhere. _Everywhere._ Your arms were almost always around each other, your smiles so bright they seemed to reflect the sun.

Penelope stopped her scrolling when she arrived at a photo of you with your lips on Spencer’s cheeks, his face bright red. Your eyes were closed, but Spencer was glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. It didn’t take a profiler to read the look on his face. It was love.

“What the fuck.”

***

The moment the clock struck 5:00 p.m., Penelope stalked into the bullpen, heading straight to Spencer. “ _You_ are coming with me, mister.” She pulled him by the arm, her grip surprisingly strong. He only resisted for a moment before giving up. He sighed, following her back into her office.

She shut the door behind them, spinning around to face him. “I found the photos.”

He blinked at her, wracking his mind for exactly what she could mean. “Photos?”

“Mhm, you know, the ones in the album labeled Pumpkin Spice? The ones with you and Y/N all over each other? You know―those photos?”

Did he ever. Those photos held everything―every moment, every laugh, every teasing elbow to the side. Everything before they had been broken. He hadn’t seen them in years, but if he closed his eyes he could picture them perfectly. Besides, he had his own stash of photos. He couldn’t get rid of them if he tried.

Spencer groaned. “Garcia, why are you snooping around in Y/N’s stuff?”

“Because you are a filthy goddamn liar, Spencer Reid. _Filthy_.”

Her eye contact was unnerving. It felt like she could see right through Spencer’s facade, right to the broken heart of him. He dropped his gaze to his feet.

“Lucy,” Penelope hummed. “You’ve got some _‘splaining_ to do.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

She let out a dramatic moan, swatting him on the head. “Don’t make me hurt you. I love you, but even I have my limits. Talk. Spill. Tell me _everything_.”

Spencer rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He loved Penelope, he really, truly did, but this was the last thing on earth he wanted to talk about. It felt as though the moment he said the words aloud it would become real. It would exist outside of the little bubble of you and Spencer and become something much bigger―something too monstrous for him to handle.

He should be used to monsters after all these years, but somehow they always managed to get the best of him.

Spencer struggled to find the words, _any_ words. “It’s a lot.”

Penelope just tutted and shouldered her bag, tugging him by the hand. “You’re coming with me, Boy Wonder. My place _―_ hot chocolate, comfy pajamas, and a _whole_ lot of explaining. You’ve been holding out on me. Did you forget the true meaning of BFF?”

He shook his head. It was pointless to resist. Besides, Penelope was right. He had spent so long hiding this, hiding _you,_ from everyone and he was tired. So tired. The weight of it all felt like it might crush him. All of those memories, all of this pain. It was exhausting to hold on to.

It was too much.

Spencer trailed after Penelope to her car, listening quietly as she chatted just to fill the silence. He couldn’t talk about it―not yet. He needed time to process it, to get his head on straight, to just find the _words_. She seemed to understand―she always understood. Not for the first time, he thanked his lucky stars that he was so fortunate to have Penelope Garcia in his life.

Once they made it to her apartment and safely inside, she set about gathering the necessities. She moved like a woman on a mission, tossing a pair of fuzzy pajama pants dotted with Daleks to him. He caught them fumblingly. “Put those on,” she directed. “Something this important warrants the _utmost_ coziness.”

Spencer had been to enough Penelope-hosted sleepovers to know the drill. He headed to the bathroom, pajama pants in hand (pajama pants that she kept at her house _specifically_ for him, for nights like this―an actual angel, truly). He changed quickly, reluctantly admitting to himself how much better just this simple act made him feel. Penelope really _was_ always right. Not that he needed to tell her that.

He emerged, ambling over to the throw pillow-adorned couch and sinking onto it. Two mugs of hot chocolate sat waiting on the coffee table, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. He wrapped his hand around one, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply. He let out a sigh before taking a tentative sip.

“Good, right?” Penelope chirped from over in the kitchen, peeking her head around the corner.

Spencer nodded. “Mhm, excellent as always. Thanks, Pen.”

After another minute puttering around, Penelope made her way over, an overflowing bowl of popcorn in hand. She dropped down onto the couch, holding the bowl out to Spencer. He grabbed a handful, smiling gratefully. They ate in silence for a moment, the room filled with nothing but the crunching of kernels until she stretched out her leg, kicking him lightly in the shin. “Alright.”

Spencer took another sip of his hot chocolate before groaning. “I don’t know where to start.”

“From the beginning, smartass!” Penelope retorted. “What happened? What did they do to you?”

He scoffed. “Why do you assume it’s something they did?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Because while you are a beautifully handsome man, I don’t really get heartbreaker vibes from you. Especially from sixteen-year-old college senior you. And I love Y/N, I do, but I’ve known you for years. You’re my number one.” She leveled her gaze at him. “So, do I need to straighten them out? Hack their computer and give them a super nasty virus? Because I can and I will.”

“No―no, that won’t be necessary,” Spencer stated firmly.

“You sure? Just say the word.”

He shook his head. No matter how angry he might be at you, how _hurt_ , he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else being angry at you―even if that someone was sweet, sweet Penelope. He knew all too well what it was like to be on her bad side. It was something he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

“Fine,” she acquiesced. “I won’t. But it’s time for you to start talking.”

Spencer set his mug back on the table, pulling his legs under him and nestling into the couch. Penelope handed him a quilt. He accepted it with a nod, draping it over his lap. She grabbed a blanket of her own, settling in to listen.

He drummed his fingers against his knee for a beat. “Okay, so you obviously know that I met Y/N in college,” he finally started. “On their first day, actually. They just―walked up to me like it was nothing, like it was the easiest thing in the world. They wanted to know if they were in the right class.” He laughed. “God, the look on their face when I told them I was the TA. I thought they might drop from shock.”

“Of course you were the TA. Mighty Professor even back then.”

Spencer smiled half-heartedly, the nostalgia washing over him. Looking back on these memories was hard, both bitter and sweet. And yet, it still filled him with a sort of warmth. It all meant something to him, something special that couldn’t be taken away.

It meant everything.

“Okay, so what happened then? Was it love at first sight? Some ooey-gooey rom-com stuff? Because I _live_ for that crap.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t love. At least not―not the typical romantic interpretation of love. Not then. But we were almost inseparable after that. It was strange, how I met them and we just―we instantly clicked.” Spencer pulled the blanket up to his chin, drawing in a quick breath. “It was like a lightbulb went off, you know? Like… like I had been waiting for them my entire life, even if I didn’t know it.”

Penelope sighed, her eyes wide and gleaming. “Oh, angel.”

“I know, I know. It sounds ridiculous.”

“Not at all, Spencer. It sounds beautiful.”

He grabbed a handful of popcorn, shoving it into his mouth unceremoniously before continuing. “It was like that for almost two years. Just―best friends. We did everything together. I don’t even know exactly when I fell in love with them. It almost… it almost felt like I always had been. And I…” he trailed off, exhaling slowly. “I was lucky enough that they loved me back.”

He fought back the sudden tears that threatened to spill, blinking them away hopelessly. Penelope reached over and squeezed his hand. She gave him a small smile. “How could they not love you?”

Spencer drew his lower lip between his teeth, letting out a quiet chuckle. “You have to say that.”

“Spencer.” The serious tone in her voice made his gaze snap to her. “I mean it. You’re one of the kindest, loveliest people I have ever had the honor of knowing. And I’m not just saying it because you’re my best friend. I’m saying it because it’s true."

He wanted it to be true. He wanted to believe her, but how could he? How could he be kind, lovely― _good_ ―when he had done what he had done?

Penelope broke the silence. “I can see your gears turning. Spill.”

“I―I don’t know, Pen. I’m not―I’m not kind. What I did… it wasn’t kind or lovely or even good.”

She gave his hand another squeeze. “I’m sure you had your reasons. And I’m sure it wasn’t all you. Do you… do you think you can tell me?” Her words were much quieter than before, gentler even.

He nodded. Now that he had started talking, had finally found the words to explain, it was like he couldn’t stop. It was freeing in a way, finally telling someone. He had spent so long being alone in this, letting the weight of it all hold him under, making it hard to breathe. He hadn’t tried to remove it, to fix it. It had felt like that was what he had deserved. But now here Penelope was, open heart and steady smile, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him up. She did it without question, without judgment. She just―she just helped him come up for air.

“Okay,” he said under his breath. “So, we―we started dating two years after we met. And we were together for four years. I thought… I thought that we’d be together forever, that they―they were the rest of my life.” A tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away. “But then… then it was over. Like―just completely out of nowhere. I never saw it coming.”

“What happened?”

“It―it was perfect. And then one day, they just… they just told me they didn’t love me―”

“What?” Penelope barked. “What the fuck?”

Spencer let out a sigh. “Yeah. It just―it knocked me off my feet.” He bunched up the blanket in his fists, staring down at his hands. “‘I never loved you,’” he recited from memory. “‘This was―this was all just a mistake. It’s over, Spencer. You’re―you’re nothing to me.’”

Penelope nearly choked on her hot chocolate mid-sip. “Holy shit. That doesn’t make any sense. Why―why would they do that?”

“I… I don’t know. I tried to talk to them a few weeks ago, after that night we all played cards in my hotel room. They told me that they didn’t mean it, that they were trying to protect me.”

Penelope’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “From what?”

“From―” he stopped himself. “Pen, this _has_ to stay between us.”

She nodded, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“From their father. He… well, last I knew he was in prison for kidnapping and attempted murder.” Penelope gasped sharply, but he continued. “She was―the victim was one of their neighbors. Y/N and their mom were the ones who turned him in. They found his workspace and went straight to the police.”

“Wow,” Penelope exhaled. “You weren’t lying when you said this was a lot.”

Spencer ducked his head. “Yep. A lot.”

“But if their dad was in prison, why did… why did they need to protect you from him?”

“That’s what I don’t know,” he murmured. “I’m assuming he got out. I just―I don’t know why they wouldn’t tell me. Why they wouldn’t let me help them with whatever it was.”

Penelope tapped her nails against her mug, letting out a hum. “So… what did you do after that?”

“After they told me they didn’t love me?” Spencer dropped his gaze back to his lap. “I―I left.”

“Left?”

“Yeah,” he choked out. “I just… I never saw them again. Not until they walked into the BAU.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Penelope held up her hand suddenly. “You mean you literally _left_? Like, walked-out-of-their-life left?”

He nodded, biting his lip in a futile attempt to stop the tears from returning.

“Oh, Spencer,” she said gently. “Why did you do that?”

“I―I don’t know. It was just the only thing that I could do. The only thing that felt… not right, exactly. It felt like the only option. I just―I packed up my apartment and finally returned Gideon’s call. And that was that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll regret it every day for the rest of my life.”

A hush fell over the room and Spencer dared to meet Penelope’s eyes once more. She considered him for a moment, not unkindly, before reaching for the bowl of popcorn. She chewed in silence, her face contorted in thought. “You know what I think?” she finally asked.

Spencer shook his head, accepting the bowl when she offered it to him.

“I think that it sounds like you both made terrible, horrible mistakes. But it also sounds like you were both in terrible, horrible situations and you both thought that you were doing the right thing.” She gripped his hand in hers again. “Not what you _wanted_ to do, but what you needed to do.”

“You don’t―you don’t think I’m an awful person?”

“Never. _Never,_ Spencer. And you know what else?” Penelope smiled softly. “I don’t think it’s too late to fix things, to make things right.”

Once again, Spencer wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe her more than anything. “You really think that?”

“If that’s what you want. If you think you can forgive them.”

“I―of course I can. Every time I look at them I want to forgive them. I _do_ forgive them. I just don’t know if they can forgive me.”

“Do you still love them?”

“I―” he swallowed thickly. All of the events of the last eleven years rushed through his mind. Despite all of the hurt, all of the regret, he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t stop it. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I think I always will.”

“Then you can make it right. If my love for rom-coms has taught me anything, as long as you have that, you can make it right.”

“What if it’s not enough?” Spencer asked, his voice wavering.

Penelope gave his hand one more squeeze, sure and steady. “You’ll never know if you never try.”

* * *

_Nine Years Ago_

You couldn’t stop staring at Spencer. You had been doing it all night. What were you doing? He was your best friend, your favorite person in the entire world. And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. Your eyes flickered to his lips, turning away when he almost caught you.

You had almost done it at the fair that night. The two of you were on the Ferris wheel, gazing out at the night sky. It was so cliche, but you couldn’t help it. The lights highlighted his face beautifully, his mouth pink from the cotton candy you had shared earlier. You wondered briefly how his lips would taste, chastising yourself for the thought. _Stop it._ He was your best friend.

You turned your gaze back to the sky, Spencer taking the opportunity to sneak a glance at you.

He had almost kissed you at the farm animal exhibit. It was a strange place to be overtaken with the urge, but he couldn’t help it. Your eyes had lit up as you watched the alpacas, cooing at them with your hand over the fence. He had spent more time watching you than the animals, wondering what would happen if he just kissed you then and there. You’d probably slap him, he decided.

Late after the fair, the two of you snuggled in your twin sized bed watching a mindless movie. Neither of you were paying attention. Spencer was trying desperately to keep his eyes on the television, acutely aware of how close to him you were. You always cuddled with each other, almost from the very beginning, but it somehow felt like something had shifted.

You had your head on his shoulder, your hand resting on top of his. That same unfamiliar desire from earlier had a hold on you, keeping you from being able to concentrate on anything else.

You sat up without warning, causing Spencer to finally look away from the television. “Spence?”

He was almost unnerved by the sudden shyness in your voice. “Yeah?”

You moved closer to him, your noses almost touching, your hand still on his. He inhaled sharply, and you caught the way his eyes flickered to your lips. It was now or never. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, your hand reaching up to hold the side of his face. Spencer let out a small gasp at the contact, making you giggle against his mouth. Silly boy.

You started to pull away, worried that maybe you had misread the entire evening _―_ maybe you had ruined everything. He pulled you back towards him, his hand snaking through your hair, your mouth crashing back into his. Your noses bumped, both you laughing against the other’s mouth without breaking away. The kiss was sweet and innocent, and it didn’t last for nearly as long as you would have liked, but it was everything. When you stopped to catch your breath, Spencer was staring at you with wide eyes. You glanced at him almost shyly before breaking into a bright smile, his own grin matching yours.

“I love you, Pumpkin,” you whispered, your head dropping back onto his shoulder and your fingers lacing with his. You had told him as much before _―_ you had loved him almost since you had met him, but this was different. This was so much more.

Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you too.”

* * *

 _“We had found it. But now I knew finding love and holding on to it were not the same thing.”  
_ _― Mary E. Pearson_


	8. SEVEN ― an awful mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for the love and feedback! I appreciate y'all so much! <3
> 
>  **Content Warning** \- alcohol consumption; brief non-graphic description of burn injuries

_“Good-byes are important. They’re how we know we’re doing the right thing. If they come easy then by all means leave and never look back. But if you open your mouth and feel the words get stuck like glue in your throat, you’re making_ _an awful mistake._ _”  
_ _―_ _Beau Taplin_

* * *

The moment you walked into the bullpen you knew—the team knew. At least some of them did, if not all of them. Penelope had caught your eye, stammering out the most awkward hello known to man before turning abruptly on her heels and scurrying back to her office. She didn’t say a word about it, but you could tell—she knew. And if she knew, Derek knew. That much you were certain of.

Whatever. You weren’t going to make any effort to explain it. If you didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be real. It could remain a kind of wild speculation. What did it even matter? There was nowhere to go from here, no way to move forward. Nothing had changed.

You steadily avoided Penelope’s gaze during the briefing, ignored her pixelated stares on the jet, and dodged her calls for almost the entirety of the case. The two of you had become fast friends in the few months that you had been on the team, but there was no way in hell you were talking to her about this. You’d seen her with Spencer—the two of them were close, had known each other for years. It didn’t take much imagination to guess that she was his best friend.

You supposed it would only make sense that someone would take your place.

The case finally wrapped, you turned your phone over in your hand, staring down at it. You’d call her back. Maybe. Or maybe you’d just wait until you were back in Quantico.

Or maybe you’d just ignore it until it went away. That was always a safe option. It didn’t always work, of course. You knew that all too well.

A hand suddenly appeared, waving in front of your face. “Earth to Y/L/N.” You blinked—Emily.

“Sorry,” you mumbled under your breath. “What were you saying?”

She gave you a once-over, the look on her face unnerving. “You and me—we’re walking back to the hotel.”

“Walking?” You glanced around the room only to find it empty except for the two of you. At some point the rest of the team had left. You were so lost in thought that you had barely recognized it, barely acknowledged that it was time to leave the precinct. All you could feel was that hollow pit in your stomach—the one that reminded you again and again what you had done.

“Yep.” She nodded, shouldering her bag and motioning for you to stand. “We have a stop to make first.”

***

“A park?” You pulled your jacket more tightly around you in an effort to keep out the biting wind. “Come on, Em. I’m fucking tired.”

Emily didn’t say a word. Instead, she dropped to the ground without warning, sitting cross-legged. You watched as she rifled through her bag before pulling out a bottle of tequila. She uncapped it and held it up to you. “Drink.”

“I feel like I should be concerned that you just had that in your bag.”

She just shook the bottle in your direction. “Come on.”

You stared at her for a beat, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know.” 

“Yep,” she said plainly. “Not everything, but enough.”

You reached for the bottle with a defeated sigh. Might as well accept it. “Goddamnit.” You took a swig and grimaced, the liquor a warming comfort and a burning reminder all at once. “First Penelope and Derek and now you? Do Hotch and Rossi know too?”

She leveled her gaze at you, lifting an eyebrow without a word and grabbing the bottle from your hands. She took a hearty gulp—without even the slightest hint of a wince, of course.

 _Oh._ You sank down to the ground beside her with a thud. “They’ve always known. Jesus Christ. And here I thought I was doing such a great goddamn job hiding it.”

“Well, to be honest, you did a pretty good job for a while.” Emily passed you the bottle again. “I just thought that the two of you were awkward as all hell. Maybe that you had met once before or something weird had happened—I don’t even know. But Hotch and Rossi? They’re just on another plane. I don’t know how they know half of the shit they know.”

That was fair. The two of them always seemed to know everything that was going on around them at all times—it shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest. Looking back on that one meeting with Hotch, you began to wonder just how much he knew. Maybe he knew everything. At the very least, he had to have an idea.

_Damn it._

The stars were bright, the night still as you sat beside Emily in silence. You hadn’t wanted to admit it but it was nice—just sitting there with another person. No judgment, no history. Just... being. You nudged her shoulder with yours. “Aren’t you going to make me talk?”

“No.” She shrugged. “Do you want to talk?”

“...no.”

“Alright, there you go.”

You flopped onto your back with a groan. “Why are we out here then?”

“You’ve looked sad. For a long time.” Emily set the bottle aside, leaning back next to you. She stared up at the sky as she spoke. “And I don’t know _exactly_ what’s going on, but I don’t like seeing my friends sad. And I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to talk. Therefore, we drink.”

You could feel your eyes well up with tears at the sincerity in her voice. She had said it so simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. It felt like an offering, like a hand reaching out and pulling you out of the darkness. Before you could even process the words coming out of your mouth, you said softly, “I was a jackass.”

Emily didn’t miss a beat. “And?”

“... _and?_ ” You turned to look at her, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Isn’t this the part where you say, ‘No Y/N, you weren’t a jackass’?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said you weren’t a jackass?”

You sighed. “No… I guess it wouldn’t.”

Maybe this frank honesty was what you needed. No sugar-coating, no trying to step around your feelings. Just an acknowledgment that you had done something awful—plain and simple.

“Besides who cares if you were?”

Now she had lost you. “ _Who cares?_ ”

“Yeah. You’re a jackass sometimes and I love you anyway.” Emily shoved the bottle your way again. “Isn’t that what friendship is? We see the worst parts of someone and we still decide that they’re someone worth knowing.”

You let out a short laugh. “I—I want that to be true, Em. I really do. But isn’t there a limit to what’s forgivable?”

“Well, obviously. But I’m operating under the assumption that you’re not like...”—she waved her hands flippantly—“a mass murderer or a serial arsonist or anything. In which case we’d have _much_ bigger issues to deal with than you hurting Reid’s feelings.”

“You are _far_ too understanding.”

Emily just shrugged. “We’ve all done things we had to in order to survive and we’ve all hurt people in the process. What really matters is what we do after.”

You were silent for a moment, her words ringing in your mind. When you finally spoke, your voice was soft. “Huh. I think _you_ might be the genius.”

“Don’t tell Reid or Garcia.”

“I would never...” You sat up with a start, eyes still fixed on the sky above. “Do you really believe that?” Emily let out a hum of confusion and you glanced at her. “That I can fix things? We really hurt each other. I... I really hurt him.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

You stiffened at her words. “What? No, of course not.” She raised a questioning eyebrow at you, her face void of judgment. There was something else there—it looked a lot like understanding. Your shoulders sagged as you let out a long exhale. “I mean, I knew what I was doing but... but it was what I thought I had to do.”

“Then I think you can.” 

“God, I don’t know,” you said under your breath. “I really don’t.”

“You have to at least try.”

***

Hours later, the darkness of your tiny hotel room provided no solace. The warmth of the tequila long gone, your thoughts were racing. Emily’s words, Penelope’s awkward glances, the devastated look on Spencer’s face? They swirled around your mind, all-consuming.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. The team knew. They knew about you and Spencer. You had been so careful, but apparently not careful enough. One slip up too many and it was all over.

Looking back, the slip ups had been obvious. They had been there in the moments where you forgot about the aching chasm of time and distance between the two of you. You had slipped back into the easy way things had once been. Despite all of your best attempts, you still knew him. This made you wonder vaguely if he still knew you—if he even still wanted to.

Part of you wished that he did, that whatever had been there between the two of you was still there, no matter how deeply buried it might be—no matter how many layers of pain and sadness now laid on top of it.

You wanted Emily to be right. You wanted it more than anything.

That thought threatened to destroy you, and you tried to renew your promise to yourself. Spencer Reid would not affect you. You couldn’t do it all again. Regardless of the fact that you had been the one to push him away, he had been the one to leave. He had just run away. That had to count for something, right?

It was easier to blame him. If you didn’t blame him, all of that resentment that you held onto would disappear. It would only be your fault. Where would you be after that?

As it was, maybe it was already your fault. Actually, you were certain. It _was_ your fault. Of course it was. It was the only thing that made sense. You had done it, had set it all in motion. Spencer had just reacted to what you had done. He had run.

Despite that knowledge, you couldn’t do it again. That empty apartment kept coming back to you every time you closed your eyes. The sting of it felt as fresh as it did five years ago.

You tried to shrug off the thoughts that felt like they were going to suffocate you.

Everything hurt. Your nightmares had been getting worse, the day to day horrors of your job doing nothing to alleviate them. They provided a sick kind of distraction during the day, but at night there was nothing left to keep you afloat. Waking up in a cold sweat in your own empty, bland apartment gave you no comfort.

It was all too familiar, reminded you of exactly what you had walked into that one day so many years ago. Your walls were blank, your furniture sparse. Boxes lined your living room, only the necessities taken out despite the fact that you’d been there for months.

You really needed to unpack. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t done it. The endless cases kept you from spending any real time there. You used that as a convenient excuse, but that wasn’t the real reason.

You had tried several times, gotten through a few boxes here and there, but there was one dusty box that kept catching your eye no matter how much you tried to ignore it. It sat at the back of your closet, taped shut as it had been for half a decade.

Its contents haunted you. There had been a time where they were your most prized possessions, your best memories. Now they just filled you with bitterness, made you cry until you had nothing left if you thought about them for too long. And yet, you couldn’t get rid of them if you tried. Not that you had ever tried. That box was yours forever, like it or not.

You found yourself thinking of that box as you laid on the flat hotel bed, desperately willing yourself to fall asleep. No matter how much you tried to keep your mind blank, you couldn’t. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to prepare yourself for the nightmares that you knew were coming.

* * *

_Five Years Ago_

What were you doing there?

You hadn’t seen Spencer in nearly a week. Not since that gut-wrenching night. It was the longest the two of you had gone without speaking since, well, ever. It was for the best. You told yourself that again and again. Every time you reached for your phone, you fought the urge to call him. The closest you had gotten was late one night when you dialed his number—no answer. And yet, you found yourself outside his door. You just had to see that he was alright.

That’s what you kept telling yourself. One last look at him before you left for good. Before you figured out what to do next, how you could get him back one day. If it would ever be _safe_ to get him back. It was an impossible situation, but you told yourself that you were doing the right thing. The only thing that would keep him out of harm's way.

You didn’t know what else to do. You were scared. Scared for you, scared for Spencer.

You knocked again. Still no answer. The seconds ticked by before you decided to try the handle. Just in case.

Unlocked. Spencer never left his door unlocked. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming, telling you to just leave, but you couldn’t. Something was wrong—things had somehow gotten even worse than before. You hadn’t thought it was possible, but now you were sure of it.

Your mind immediately went to your father—maybe you had been too late. Maybe he had gotten there before you had. The thought filled you with such immense dread that you almost couldn’t breathe, too terrified of what might be waiting for you on the other side of that door. Spencer could be hurt, unable to move or answer your calls. You didn’t even want to consider the other possibility—the one that was so horrifying that it was almost unimaginable.

You pushed open the door, your heart dropping as you walked inside. All of the terrible possibilities haunting your imagination vanished as you scanned the apartment.

It was completely empty. Nothing.

The couch that you had spent countless evenings nestled with Spencer on. The framed photos of the two of you that had littered the shelves. The cluttered coffee table that you had spent many early hours huddled around, the two of you sharing cups of coffee and the most intimate pieces of yourself.

All gone. There was no sign that anyone had ever been there at all. No sign that you and Spencer had ever been there at all.

Maybe you never had.

* * *

_Present Day_

Spencer hadn’t been asleep. Not really. He was alternating between rereading the book on his bedside table and staring out the window at the night sky when he heard it through the adjoining hotel room door. It was a noise that was all too familiar—a shriek of agony, the distinct sound of thrashing. What followed it was new, but he would recognize it anywhere. “ _No, please, no_.” Your words were mumbled, turning quickly into sobs.

He ran to the door, eyeing the bedside table that held his gun before deciding against it, almost certain he knew what was happening. “ _Y/N._ ” He knocked on the door but there was no response, only the sound of muffled sobbing punctuated with cries of pain. He knocked again, more vehemently this time. “Y/N, wake up.” The noise on the other side stopped almost immediately, a sudden silence overtaking the room. “Let me in, Y/N.” His voice was stronger than he felt, his words pleading. He stood there resolutely, the seconds ticking by.

You weren’t going to open the door. He resigned himself to that fact, his forehead dropping to rest on the cold wood frame. What could he do? All he wanted was to help you. He _needed_ to help you. Despite all of these years, all of this time and distance, all he wanted was for you to be okay.

The click of the lock startled him, and he jerked back as the door opened tentatively. You stood before him, rumpled pajamas and eyes rimmed red as you stared at one another. Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but you simply turned away from him, sinking down onto your bed. He took the open door as some sort of unspoken invitation, stepping through the doorway and sitting beside you. The two of you sat in silence, the darkness of the room a twisted type of cold comfort.

You were only inches from him, close enough to touch if he reached out, and yet you were somehow miles away. How had this happened? How had he fucked up the best thing in his life to the point of unrecognizability?

“Let me in,” he whispered again.

You turned your gaze from the floor to him, eyeing him as though turning over whether or not you could trust him in your head. It hurt—your hesitation hurt. There had been a time where you had told him everything and he had done the same. 

Your eyes dropped back to the floor. He sighed, trying to accept that as the end, when your hands moved to the hem of your shirt, rolling it up slowly with trembling fingers. Spencer watched you cautiously, his eyes widening as the fabric of your shirt was lifted up. The skin underneath was bleached and waxy, clear tellings of third degree burns. It stretched from your side across your stomach, and you turned away from him, blinking back tears.

“I—” Spencer was at a loss for words. His gaze shifted between your face and the scars as he struggled to comprehend exactly what you were showing him. This was it—a window cracked open, just enough so that he could peek inside, just enough to get a glimpse at what had happened in all those years without each other. He was still on the outside looking in, though. And oh, what he wouldn’t give to be let in, to be given just one more chance to know you again. He was fairly certain he would do anything.

“You can touch it,” you said flatly. “I can’t feel it. I can’t—I can’t feel anything.”

He gaped at you for a moment before reaching out an unsteady hand, somehow moved by your words. He didn’t know what he was doing, but you had unexpectedly given him permission to touch you and he found himself moving without thinking. His hand came to rest on your side, a feather-light touch, just barely there.

You inhaled sharply at his touch, fresh tears in your eyes, and in a split second you were sobbing, gasping for air. He withdrew his hand instantly, about to apologize for overstepping, when you buried your head in his chest, clinging onto him like you were drowning and he was your only salvation.

He reacted instinctively, without so much as another thought. His arms wrapped around you as they had a million times before, the distinct familiarity of it only making the pain that much more real.

If Spencer closed his eyes, it was like reliving every time he had been here before. Every moment that you had held one another, each of you serving as a lifeline for the other. The two of you still fit together perfectly, like maybe these last five years had been some horrific, unbelievable dream.

You sobbed into his shirt, your fingers gripping the soft fabric for dear life. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I’m so, so sorry.”

He could feel your terror, your pain, as though it was his own. It reverberated through him all at once. Your entire body seemed to shake against his and he blinked back the sudden tears that threatened to fall. He pulled you down gently until you were laying beside him. “You’re safe,” he murmured over and over again, his hand running through your hair.

There were no other words that he could say, nothing he could do to take away the hurt. Whatever had happened to you had happened—and he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been there to help you, to make it stop, to do _anything_. Anything that he should have done. All of the blame that Spencer had been placing on you vanished, your anguished cries piercing his heart.

The two of you stayed just like that while your sobs subsided, your head on his chest, his arms securely around you. It was almost silent until you let out a whimper.

He almost didn’t want to speak, to break the stillness that had fallen over the room. It felt as though one wrong word would break the spell, would push you away from him once more—back out of his reach. “What is it?”

You peered up at him through your tears before whispering, “I’m glad it was me.”

He had to have misheard you. “What?”

“If it wasn’t me, it was going to be you. It couldn’t be you.” You made no move to explain any further, instead turning your face back into Spencer’s chest.

Spencer didn’t ask you what you meant—he couldn’t. All he could do was turn over your words in his mind, all of the worst possibilities coming to the forefront. All of the convoluted, broken torment of the past was slowly starting to piece itself together. It was slowly starting to make sense.

And yet, that somehow made it hurt even more.

There were no more words exchanged, the only sound in the room your labored breathing. It gradually grew more and more steady as the two of you laid there in the dark, time seeming to stand still. Spencer only dared to move when he could tell that you had fallen asleep, his hold on you tightening as his own tears finally fell.

* * *

 _“I am not collarbones or drunken letters never sent. I am not the way I leave or left or didn’t know how to handle anything, at any time, and I am not your fault.”  
_ _― Charlotte Eriksson_


	9. EIGHT ― come back to me

_“Everyone keeps asking me what I’m doing with myself, how I’m passing the time, what I’m doing with my legs now that they’re not swinging on the train to your place. I am waiting for you to_ _come back to me_ _, that’s what I’m doing.”  
_ ― _Caitlyn Siehl_

* * *

Despite the night in the hotel, despite the barrier that had seemed to be crossed, you retreated from Spencer almost immediately. You had awoken in his arms, heat rushing to your cheeks as you fled to the bathroom. The mortification of what had happened―what you had _let_ happen―filled you up. How could you be so careless?

You tried to tell yourself that this didn’t change anything. Nothing was different. You were still you and he was still him.

In retrospect, that was the entire problem.

Spencer kept trying to get you alone, trying to pull you aside so you could talk about that night. There was no way that you could allow that to happen. It would just be another sign of weakness. You couldn’t do that.

Not again.

It was only a few days later when you found yourself confronted yet again by the ghosts of your past. You had taken to spending your lunch breaks in the one empty office that was as far from the bullpen as possible. It was the only place where you could find solace, where you were allowed a moment to just be.

To the team’s credit, they hadn’t brought up what they had learned beyond the conversation you had had with Emily. Penelope still looked at you as though you might disappear at any instant, but the rest of them were much better equipped to conceal their reactions. You had that at least.

Now you were tucked into the tiny office, sipping half-heartedly on your coffee as the seconds ticked by. The sound of approaching footsteps was your one clue that your solitude was just about over; it was Penelope with a new case, you assumed. Your break was about to be cut short after only fifteen blissful minutes of peace―typical.

You sighed, setting down your mug and fixing your gaze on the door. When it didn’t burst open in the typical Penelope fashion, your heart sank. There was a tentative knock and then it opened just a crack.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s face was just barely visible in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

You mumbled your assent, standing up and collecting your belongings. A quick getaway might be in order.

Who were you kidding? It was _definitely_ in order.

“Do we have a case?”

Spencer stepped in all the way, shaking his head. “No, I just... I wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

It didn’t make sense. All you had done was push him away, shove insults at him, avoid him at every turn. Why should he care? “I’m fine.”

You could tell just from the look on his face that he didn’t buy it. You had never been able to lie to him. Never―except for just that once.

“Please, Y/N. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.” His words no longer rolled off of your carefully crafted armor. Instead it felt like a dagger straight to the heart.

If only you could tell him. You wanted to, but not like this. You wanted to tell the old Spencer, the Spencer who looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Not the one who had abandoned you. Who had left you all alone.

You couldn’t quite find the words to explain all of that. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

In spite of your best efforts to flee out the door, Spencer still managed to trap you. He stood in front of you, his unrelenting stance so different from the docile, slouched posture that you were used to. “But I do. I worry about _you_ ,” Spencer said softly. “I just―I want to help you.”

He didn’t really expect a response. If anything, he thought you’d hurl out another insult, shove him away maybe. This was why the next words out of your mouth took him by surprise.

“Why?” You refused to meet his eyes, your voice so quiet he could barely hear it. “Why do you want to help me? After―after what I did?”

Spencer blinked at you for a moment, trying to find the words to explain. He watched your hands grasp awkwardly at the hem of your cardigan, desperately fought the urge to reach out and grab them in his. “We both made mistakes,” he finally settled on, “but that doesn’t change everything else we had. That doesn’t change who we were.”

Your gaze snapped up to meet his. He was taken aback by the sudden tears that filled your eyes. “Spencer,” you whispered. “How are you so good?”

“What?”

“How are you so good?” It didn’t make any more sense to him the second time you said it. You continued, “You’ve always been the best person I knew. But I can’t―you don’t deserve to have to deal with me. I’m not your problem anymore.”

“You’ve never been a problem.” Spencer’s own hands itched to reach out and touch you, just enough to ensure that you were still there. To make sure that you didn’t float away. “I just―I see you hurting and I can’t just do nothing.”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N, please.”

Silence filled the room as the two of you stared at one another, neither of you willing to make the next move. He wasn’t going to back down, and you weren’t going to tell him. At least not what he wanted to hear―not yet. The words pulled at you, but they refused to come out. Instead you said, “I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“What?” There it was again, that look of surprise. Surprise that you were still standing there, that you were still talking to him. Eleven years may have passed since you first saw that look, but it was just the same.

“I—I’m sorry for everything. Everything that happened. I know… I know that it was my fault. And you deserved better than that.”

Spencer watched as you blinked back tears, the utter helplessness he felt threatening to drag him down. “What did he do?” It was the wrong question. He knew it and yet he asked it anyway.

Your head snapped back up and you took a step away from him. “I can’t—I can’t do this.”

“Please, I swear, I’m just trying to understand.” He could hear the whine in his own voice, winced at how pitiful it sounded. It felt like he was begging, pleading. What for he didn’t quite know. Answers? Closure? A second chance? _Anything?_ “I―I don’t know what else to do. What more do you want?”

You tugged at the strap of your bag, avoiding his eyes once more. “What I want is impossible.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want… I want to go back, Spencer.” You didn’t mean to say it aloud, hadn’t even really thought that you could, but then it was out. It was out and you couldn’t take it back. “Back to when everything was good. Back to when we were the best thing in each other’s lives.” You lowered your voice as you continued. “I want to have _never_ known what you sound like when your heart is broken; I want to have _never_ seen that horrible, haunting pain in your eyes―the pain that _I_ put there. I want to undo everything.” You choked back a sob. “I want you to love me and I want to deserve it.”

Spencer’s eyes were wide and glistening with unshed tears as he stared at you. He opened his mouth for just an instant before closing it again. There was nothing he could say, not in that moment. Your words swam in his head, rendering him speechless. It was the most you had said to him, the most _vulnerable_ you dared be with him, and yet he couldn’t even form a coherent response.

You couldn't go back. That much was all that he was sure of. Everything else? He had no idea.

You took his silence as an answer, pushing gently past him and out of the office. He followed and watched in silence as you left. He resisted the pull to call after you, to break down in front of you, to beg you for your forgiveness.

He let you walk away.

And that was it. You left him alone in the hallway, staring at your back as he had so many times before, wondering once again how it had come to this.

Things carried on in this manner, neither of you moving forward. You kept your distance as best you could, shrinking back into that icy shell that you had created, your only salvation. It was the only way. You couldn’t let him in. All you could see was that empty apartment, the crushed dreams of you and him. There was no way you could do that again. You wouldn’t survive it.

Life went on, kind of―if this strange dance you were doing could be considered life. You were at an almost constant war with yourself. Part of you just desperately wanted to cave, to tell Spencer everything. You wanted things back to the way they were. The realization that they could never be the same was what held you back. Those perfect memories had been permanently marred.

* * *

_Eight Years Ago_

“Y/N, that is a _children’s_ book,” Spencer whined, letting out a laugh at the mock-scowl that you shot at him.

“Spence, for the millionth time, get your pretty little pretentious head out of your ass and accept the fact that there are some things that I know better than you. And one of them is that _The Little Prince_ is an exquisite piece of literature.”

He sighed before leaning his head back on the couch and you knew that you had won. You squealed, grabbing the book from your bag. You had come prepared.

“I’m just so excited that I’ve read something that you haven’t, Pumpkin. Just let me have this. Settle in.”

Spencer grumbled, but he couldn’t hold back his smile when you laid your head on his shoulder, your hand finding his. He only argued because he loved the way your eyes would light up, the grin spreading across your face as you bickered back at him. It was all done with the utmost affection, affection he hadn’t known could make him feel like this. 

Loved. Whole. _Enough_.

“‘Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book…’”

* * *

_Present Day_

That stupid fucking box. For some reason, you sat with your head on your knees, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs, just staring. Staring at that stupid fucking box.

You knew exactly what you would find if you opened it. That made it worse.

You almost wished that your phone would ring, that a case would pop up. Anything to take your mind off of this cardboard box that somehow weighed three hundred tons. As it were, no such thing happened. Time passed by slowly, evening turning into night. No distraction to save you from yourself.

Your thoughts were wandering, replaying every single memory attached to the contents of that godforsaken box. It was almost three in the morning now, and your resolve was wavering. It had been sealed shut for so long, and yet you found your hand reaching for it, your eyes already filling with tears.

You picked at the edge of the tape, your fingernail just starting to work its way under, when you heard the faintest of knocks and pulled your hand back with a start. You had to be imagining things.

But no, there it was again. Louder this time, more persistent. Someone was knocking on your door at three in the morning.

Who you expected to find when you opened the door, you weren’t sure. Maybe a disgruntled neighbor? Someone who had lost their cat? Whatever it was, it wasn’t what you found.

Spencer.

He stood in front of you, all messy hair and rumpled cardigan, a look you couldn’t quite place on his face. “Can I come in?” he said softly, eyes pleading with you.

That voice in the back of your mind was screaming, yelling, _Yes. Yes, please come in. Come make it all better._ You didn’t want to let that voice win. “No.” You went to shut the door, ignoring the ache in your chest.

“Please, Y/N. I―I just need to know. I need to explain.” He was holding back tears, that much you could tell. That determination that you held onto so steadfastly began to crumble the longer you stood there staring at him.

The seconds ticked by, each of you holding your breath, waiting for the inevitable collapse. The next words out of your mouth seemed to take you both by surprise. “Fine, come in.”

If you had told yourself four months ago that you would be sitting on the couch in your new apartment with Spencer Reid at an ungodly hour of the night, you would have laughed in your own face. Broken down in tears too, maybe, but definitely laughed.

A heavy silence settled over the room as you refused to look at him. His eyes were burning holes into you, making you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. It had always felt like he could see right through to the heart of you.

He finally spoke first. “Can you tell me? Please, Y/N. I’m just trying to understand. What happened to you?”

You had spent so much time being angry about the way that he had left that you hadn’t truly stopped to consider the impact your own actions had had. At the time, you had thought you were doing the right thing. The only thing, really. It was easier to keep that resentment directed at Spencer, to let it boil under the surface for all these years.

You couldn’t let it go. “Tell me why you left without saying goodbye. Then I’ll tell you.”

He had expected that. He still knew you better than he knew anyone else, after all.

You watched as he swallowed the lump in his throat, his tongue wetting his lips in the same familiar way that you had always found so endearing. It hurt to watch.

“You broke my heart,” Spencer said, his eyes darting from yours to the floor. “I―I loved you so much, more than I thought I would ever be capable of. And I just―I didn’t know what to do. You didn’t want me. I thought you’d be better off without me. So I ran. I ran like a coward. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve always wanted you.”

“Then why?” The sudden anger in his voice forced you to finally look up, to look at him. To really and truly look at him. He stared at you, jaw clenched, brows furrowed. “Why did you do that to me?”

Why? That was the question that was always on your mind, the one that haunted you late at night. Why did you ruin the best thing in your life?

You knew why, though. You had to do it. There was no other option. You had to save him.

There was a beat where you both just gazed at one another, the pain you felt reflected in his hazel eyes. Those eyes had always been able to make you do anything.

And so, you told him.

It came out awkward, stilted at first. There was so much to explain, so much that had happened. You had spent so long repressing those memories, pretending that they didn’t exist if you didn’t think about them. It never worked.

You told him about the man you had once called your father, about his twisted version of love. About how it had become so warped that you stopped being able to recognize it long ago. Spencer knew about his past, about the horrific events that had led to his imprisonment. He knew that it had been because of you, you and your mother, that he had been caught.

That was the end of the story as far as Spencer knew. He was a horrible, cruel man and the justice system had seen to it that he paid for what he had done. The kidnapping and attempted murder charges seemed like they would be the end of it.

For a long time you had thought that that was it too. You hadn’t seen him in so long, had never visited him in prison. There was no way that you could, no way that you could look him in the eye. The past was in the past, or so you had thought. The girls he had tortured would never fully recover, you knew that for sure, but at least he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

It stayed that way until five years ago. That was when you found out. He had been paroled―a result of good behavior and overcrowding. _Good behavior._ The thought itself made you sick. Nothing about your father could be classified as good.

He hated you. Even before he had been caught, he hated you. It didn’t matter that you had been a child, that he was the one who was supposed to give you unconditional love. None of that mattered.

He wanted to hurt you, to punish you and your mother for turning him in. He couldn’t get to your mother―she had died years ago. That left you.

He found you. Despite the years, despite the distance you had tried to put between the two of you, he had found you.

It happened when you least expected it. It was a Tuesday, just another normal day. The phone in your apartment was ringing as you entered, pushing the door shut behind you. When you answered, the voice on the other end chilled you to your core. Your books toppled from your hands, your breath catching in your chest as you struggled to comprehend what you were hearing.

_“Why, hello there, Y/N.”_

You had thought that maybe it was in your head, a repressed memory coming back to haunt you once more. But no, he was really there on the other end. He had found you.

And that was when he told you. He told you what he was going to do.

He knew about Spencer, about how much you loved him, how important he was to you. You didn’t know how he had found out about him, how he had all of this information on your life, but that was his plan all along. Hurt the person you loved the most, hurt you. He knew how monstrous the things he was planning on doing were. He didn’t care. That was just how depraved he had become. Maybe he always was like that.

When Spencer wasn’t an option anymore, he went with his second best plan. You.

Spencer’s face twisted in horror as he listened, his eyes glistening. You stopped speaking to catch your breath, a sob hitching in your chest. It was too much. Your father, someone who was supposed to love you unconditionally, had done the unspeakable. He had taken you away from the life you had built without him, had exacted his twisted revenge. It was unreal, unthinkable.

“I thought that if we weren’t together, if I could just pretend that I didn’t love you, that he would leave you alone. Now I know what a terrible idea it was, but I was young and stupid and it was the only thing I could think of,” you said. “I didn’t think you would―that you’d be gone forever.”

Your hand found its way to Spencer’s without even thinking, his grip on you tightening immediately. He never wanted to let you go. He regretted every time he had _ever_ let you go.

You told him about how you had made it out, how you had fought tooth and nail to get out. And once you were out, you ran. You ran as far away as you could, always looking over your shoulder. Maybe you had gotten out, but you weren’t intact. You weren’t left unscathed.

That was when you knew you wanted to be in the FBI. You wanted to stop monsters from destroying people the way that your father had destroyed you.

You pulled your hand from Spencer’s suddenly, wiping away the tears that trailed down your cheeks. “I hated myself for pushing you away, for making you leave. I still do.”

The look on Spencer’s face was enough to break your heart all over again. “I’m so sorry.” He bit his lip, obviously fighting back his own tears. “I wish―I wish you had told me. Maybe I could have―maybe I could have helped you.”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” you said. “You were so young, so innocent. I couldn’t let him hurt you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t deserve that either.”

You merely shrugged at him. There had been enough rumination on that topic to last you a lifetime. You wanted to believe him, you really did. Maybe one day you would.

The two of you lapsed into silence, your minds racing with the truths that had just been spoken. All that agony and suffering. It had happened, and it still hurt. Maybe it always would. But now there was a reason behind it. No matter how convoluted and bitter it was, there had been a reason. You wanted that to be enough.

Spencer wanted the same things. He wanted you. All of you, any of you. Whatever you would give him. His heart ached at the torment in your eyes, the sorrow in your voice. “I miss you, Y/N. I’ve missed you for five years. Can we―I don’t know―can we try again? I want to be there for you. I―I miss my best friend.”

“You still left me,” you bit back. “Without... without saying goodbye. Spencer, I―I get it. I get leaving, I do. I said some awful things, terrible things. But you just―you just left.”

Driving him away was what you had wanted, what you had _needed_. It was the only way to save Spencer from the same pain you had been subjected to. And yet when he left without a word? He had taken a piece of your heart with him, left you broken in a way you hadn’t known was possible. You didn’t know what you had expected, what you had wanted.

It was an unimaginable situation. There was no winner.

“And you still lied to me. You still pushed me away.” His voice cracked, the anger in it vanishing as quickly as it had come. “I made a mistake. A horrible, devastating mistake. But I was just as young and stupid as you.”

You shook your head. “You were never young and stupid.”

Silence hung over the room yet again. Spencer stared at you, his eyes boring into yours. It felt as though you could see the thoughts running through his head, hear all the words that had gone unsaid.

Finally, he spoke. “It was a long time ago. I’ve forgiven you―can’t you forgive me?”

Your eyes dropped from his to the floor. Looking at him for too long hurt. It was unbearable. “We broke each other’s hearts.”

He reached for your hand once more, interlacing your fingers. You didn't pull away―you couldn't. “Broken things can be fixed," he said.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him more than anything. It would be so much simpler that way.

“I don’t know if they can, Spencer.”

* * *

_“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”  
_ _― Haruki Murakami_


	10. NINE ― a thousand separate heavens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all are well! <3
> 
>  **Content Warning** \- referenced abuse and violence related to a typical case

_“I intend to leave this life so shattered there’s gonna have to be_ _a thousand separate heavens_ _for all of my flying parts.”  
_ ― _Andrea Gibson_

* * *

Before there was even a chance to figure out what that one conversation with Spencer meant, if it could change anything at all, the team was suddenly in Houston. There was no time for your personal tragedy. You tried your best to shove aside the lingering memory of that night. It didn’t matter right now. It couldn’t.

You were working day and night to track down an unsub who was torturing, poisoning, and posing their victims. The dig that Penelope had done on the deceased had turned up some nasty history of abuse and assault allegations for all four. That coupled with the slightly odd combination of M.O. had led you all to believe that the unsub was a woman with a rather particular surrogate in mind.

Penelope had worked her ever-wondrous magic and found exactly who you were looking for―Jessica Keller. She had multiple hospital visits over a five year period, clear signs of abuse and torture that could be attributed to her then-boyfriend. Said boyfriend, however, had an uncle working in the court system who was able to sweep the charges almost completely under the rug. The signs saying that she was the unsub couldn’t have been any brighter if they were neon.

Hotch split you up, sending you and Emily to the workplace address. Spencer and Derek were sent to the house, the rest of the team covering other bases just in case something had been missed.

The unsub worked as a freelance photographer, and her studio was nothing more than a well furnished shed. You and Emily cleared it quickly―no one was there. After telling the others to be careful, you combed the shed for evidence.

You found it in the form of a floral scrapbook full of black and white photographs of the victims in the midst of their torture. Emily shot you a grimace as you flipped through the pages with a gloved hand. Just when you thought you had seen it all before.

Her phone ringing interrupted your shared look of horror, her tone alone telling you that it was Hotch on the other end. When she hung up, she ran out the door and towards the SUV without another word.

You followed her on instinct despite your confusion. “Prentiss— _Prentiss_! What’s going on?”

It was only when she peeled out of the driveway that she spoke. “It’s Reid.”

She had no more details to offer you. You fought down the panic that rose in your throat, your breath suddenly stilted. He had to be alright. There was no other option.

You arrived at the scene in record time, your feet carrying you across the driveway before Emily had even put the car in park. An ambulance sat outside with Hotch and Rossi beside it, their faces painted with worry. That wasn’t a good sign. They were the pillars of your team, the ones you could always count on to hold it together no matter the circumstances.

If they were worried, you were terrified.

You ran to the ambulance, half expecting to find Spencer in the back, a little beat up but ultimately alright. Instead you found Derek. He sat upright, blood dripping down the side of his face as he argued with the paramedic, insisting that he was fine.

“Morgan, are you okay? What happened?” You looked from him to the house, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. “Where’s Spencer?”

Derek winced as he glanced up at you, something like guilt clouding his features. Hotch approached the two of you, resting a hand on your shoulder. The motion was probably meant to give you some comfort, but it only served to enrage you more.

The silence was more defeaning than any explanation could have been.

“ _Derek!”_ You were practically shouting now. “Where the _fuck_ is Spencer?”

The words ‘ _She has him’_ were uttered by someone, somewhere. You weren’t sure who. The blood rushed to your head, your vision blurring and your ears ringing. It felt as though your entire world had slid out from under you.

In some ways, it had.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Someone’s hand was on your shoulder again. You tried to brush it off, tried to walk away, but your feet wouldn’t cooperate. Hotch caught you as you stumbled, and you somehow found yourself sitting on the ground.

Time seemed to freeze after that, everyone around you moving while you sat there helplessly. People spoke around you, to you, at you. You couldn’t hear it. Light filled your eyes in blinding bursts―the glare of the ambulance lights, the flash of the crime scene cameras, the glint of the sun against the window panes. The sunshine felt wrong. It felt as though it was mocking you.

How could the sun still be shining? It should be dark―as dark as the despair that threatened to drag you down, as the hopelessness that had all but paralyzed you.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t shut down. Not when Spencer needed you.

You couldn’t let him down. Not again.

You allowed yourself five more seconds of panic before swallowing thickly and jumping back into action.

_One, two, three, four, five._

* * *

_Eleven Years Ago_

“Get down from there.”

“Come on, Spence. Live a little!” you called down from your spot on the fire escape.

Spencer let out an indignant squeak in response. “ _Live a little?_ I’ve known you for two months and I feel like I’ve aged ten years.”

“Good.” You laughed and continued your ascent. “Maybe now you’re almost old enough to actually be in college.”

He just rolled his eyes and watched as you climbed up the stairs. Once it was crystal clear that you had no intentions of coming back down, he sighed and took a tentative step up. The rickety fire escape terrified him, but he couldn’t help but feel the urge to follow you. He couldn’t quite place what it was that tugged at him―genuine concern for your safety or something else. Something much more unfamiliar.

You had already been on the roof for several minutes by the time Spencer caught up to you. He opened his mouth to speak, but you shushed him. “Look,” you said, pulling him by the arm. He followed your gaze, eyes widening at the starry night sky before him.

You sank down onto the ground and Spencer followed your lead. The two of you sat in silence just staring up at the open sky. It was the same as any other night, the same sky Spencer had seen his whole life, but somehow with you beside him it felt entirely different. It felt like something new. He turned to watch you, desperate to memorize every feature. He noticed the contented smile that had settled on your lips, how your eyes seemed to light up, the moonlight that shone in your hair.

He noticed everything.

“It’s beautiful, right?”

Spencer let out a small murmur of agreement, never once taking his eyes off of you. You glanced over at him and he looked away, worried that he had been caught. If he had, you didn’t say a word about it.

“I love coming up here,” you said, catching his attention once more. “It feels―it makes me feel like maybe I’m not so small, like I can do anything―overcome anything―when I’m up here. Does that make sense?”

Spencer nodded, turning over the words that he wanted to say in his head. He didn’t know if they would be too much, too soon. Spencer had always felt like too much. You raised an eyebrow at him and he swallowed before answering, “I already know that you can do anything. You’re―you’re incredible, Y/N. I don’t think the stars have anything on you.”

He caught your eye, saw your lip trembling as you stared at him. Before the worry of _too much_ could overtake him again, you opened your mouth to speak. “All of that in two months?” Your words were quiet, laced with gratitude and astonishment.

He simply nodded again. “Sixty-two days, eleven hours, and seventeen minutes to be precise.”

You huffed out a shaky laugh, resting your head on his shoulder and taking his hand in yours. The sudden contact startled him, but the moment your skin touched his, he knew he would be content to spend his entire life like this. “My little genius,” you said softly. “Got any good star quotes rattling around in that big old brain of yours?”

Spencer answered almost automatically. “‘There’s as many atoms in a single molecule of your DNA as there are stars in the typical galaxy. We are, each of us, a little universe.’”

“Neil deGrasse Tyson. Of course you would choose a science quote.”

“What can I say?”

The two of you lapsed back into a comfortable silence, your hand never once leaving his. The next time you spoke, it was so quiet that Spencer almost told himself that he had imagined it. “I think you might be my little universe.”

He said nothing in response. He didn’t dare. He just gripped your hand more tightly, eyes fixed on the night sky as he desperately committed this moment to memory―as he desperately prayed for a million more moments just like this one.

For a future.

* * *

_Present Day_

The team reconvened at the precinct, huddled around the speakerphone as Penelope searched urgently for where the unsub might have taken Spencer. Ideas were being tossed back and forth rapidly, all of you trying not to lose your cool as the minutes turned into hours, day turning to night.

That was easier said than done.

The profile had led you to believe that she would probably try to make contact. That was your best hope for now, though Penelope kept searching for secondary locations―something, _anything_.

You had suggested the ex-boyfriend. If he was the real target of her rage, you needed to find him. The rest of the team agreed that that was your best bet. Find him, find Spencer. Penelope was almost there. She just needed more time.

Time. There was no knowing if you had enough, if it had already run out. The images of that scrapbook filled your head every time you closed your eyes. Usually you were able to compartmentalize your work, to distance yourself from the torment the victims went through―you all had to, in order to stay afloat―but this? This was impossible. All you could think of was Spencer hurt, in pain, _alone_.

Must it always be like this?

You could feel yourself starting to spiral again, could feel the way your breath caught in your chest. You weren’t helping. You weren’t doing enough. One suggestion―you had made _one_ suggestion. It wasn’t enough.

Spencer was gone and you weren’t helping.

The room began to spin, the hurried chatter of your teammates blurring together. You briefly wondered how they did it, how they weren’t all crying, screaming, falling to the ground.

You were about to fall back to the ground.

Hotch and Derek were in the middle of discussing the unsub’s comfort zone once more when you stood up from the table. The discussion ceased for just an instant, all eyes on you. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” you said, your voice as weak as you felt. A worried glance passed between Derek and Emily, but you did nothing to acknowledge it. You stepped out of the room, the chatter erupting once more behind you.

You somehow made it to the bathroom despite the fact that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The silence in the tiny space felt as though it echoed. The noise had been nonstop for so long, you almost couldn’t remember what quiet felt like. You sank to the floor, arms wrapping around your knees as you desperately tried to take a deep breath.

Useless.

You were letting Spencer down again. It was the one thing you were good at apparently, the one constant amidst all of this chaos.

A knock on the door startled you, and you jumped up. You wiped your face―despite the fact that there were no tears―before opening it just a crack. It was Derek.

“Can I come in?”

You nodded, allowing him to slip in behind you before shutting the door. “Here to tough-love me into getting my shit together?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m here to tell you that Reid is strong and he’s going to get through this― _we’re_ going to get through this.”

Tears filled your eyes again at the certainty in his voice. You bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m failing him, Derek. Again. It’s all I ever do.”

“Y/N,” he said sharply, causing you to finally meet his eye. “I mean this with all the love in the world, you know that. But right now? It’s not about any of that. It’s not about what you didn’t do or what you haven’t done. It’s about right here, right now, and getting Spencer back. And he needs you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead you nodded, taking a deep breath before opening the door and stepping back into the hallway. Derek followed and the two of you walked in silence. “So,” you finally said, “you were lying about the whole no tough-love thing.”

He chuckled and shrugged. “What can I say?”

Just outside of the conference room, you grabbed his hand in yours. “Thanks, Derek.” He simply nodded again, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

The two of you stepped in, jumping right back into the tumult. No one acknowledged your departure or return and for that you were grateful. You listened for a moment as they gave you the breakdown of where they were―Penelope had almost located the ex-boyfriend. There were layers and layers of sealed documents that she had to unseal, a false background and identity to peel away, but she was almost there.

Almost.

None of you knew if it would be enough.

The din of the room fell silent the instant your phone rang. You pulled it out with trembling hands, a chill running down your spine at the caller ID. It was Spencer.

Penelope began setting up the trap and trace immediately, urging you to keep him on the line for as long as possible.

“Spencer?” you said, your voice frantic. “Spencer, where are you?”

Your question was answered with a cold and detached voice on the other end. “ _Oh, I think you know it’s not Spencer._ ”

“Jessica, what did you do? Where did you take him?” Even as you asked that, you knew it was pointless. She wasn’t going to tell you. Your best chance of finding Spencer was to indulge her little fantasy, to play along with the idea that every man had the worst intentions. You honestly couldn’t blame her for that one.

_“You think your Spencer here is so perfect. So loyal, so loving. You should know that he’s just like the rest of them.”_

He must have told her that the two of you were dating. There was no other explanation for why she would be calling you and saying these things. That thought relieved you. Spencer had a plan. He always had a plan. He had wanted her to call _you_.

There was a way out. There had to be. If anyone could find a way, it was Spencer. You had always believed in him―that would never change.

“How so?” you asked.

 _“Oh, I don’t know. Any number of reasons. They’re all the same in the end,”_ she said with a sneer. “ _But you know what? Why don’t I let him tell you himself?”_ There was a muffled noise on the other end and you could only imagine that it was Spencer being pushed towards the phone.

You winced at the sound, biting the inside of your cheek. “Spencer? Are you there?”

 _“I’m here, Y/N._ ” His voice was weak, trembling. The sudden urge to jump through the phone and punch Jessica in the face overcame you. The unbridled anger mixed with the despair that you had felt seeping into every pore, and your entire body shook with it. You sank into your seat, your hands tightening into fists, your fingernails digging into your skin. Emily grabbed your hand in hers, gently unclenched your fist and threaded your fingers together.

“What is she doing to you? Where are you?”

 _“Tell them,”_ Jessica hissed. “ _Tell them the truth_.”

There was a heavy pause before a resounding slap, Spencer letting out a pitiful squeak of pain. There was something wet on your cheek and you reached up to wipe it away―tears. When had you started crying?

“ _I never_...” His voice trailed off, replaced by an unsettling quiet. All you could hear was his labored breaths until―until there was a screech. It was him, unrestrained, full of agony. Emily’s hand tightened in your grasp.

Then there was the unmistakable click of the chamber of a revolver being loaded, being spun. _“Tell them. Unless you want to test out just how lucky you are.”_

He was trying to stall her, to give you more time to track the call. He was right to do it, but at what cost?

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Just say it, Spencer. Give her what she wants.”

“ _I never loved you,”_ he whispered. You could hear Jessica in the background, yelling at him to continue. This was exactly what she wanted. He was playing into her fantasy―nothing more.

So why did those four words hurt so much?

 _“I never loved you,”_ he repeated. “ _I was_ ― _I was just using you. Remember the day we first met, how we went to my house? It was supposed to just be a one time thing. You’re_ ― _you’re nothing to me. You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”_

The line went dead, the stillness of the room sickening. Your mouth had dropped open, a tear still making its way down your cheek. You looked up at your teammates for the first time in what felt like hours.

“He didn’t mean―” JJ started, her wide eyes meeting yours.

“I know,” you cut in. “I know, he didn’t mean it. He was trying to tell us something. We didn’t go to his house the first day we met.” You turned to Hotch. “You all know as well as I do that he wouldn’t get it wrong on purpose. He’s telling us where he is. And at the end―‘you’re beautiful but you’re empty’? That’s from _The Little Prince._ It’s about a rose.”

There was a beat before everyone began to move at once, Penelope rapidly triangulating the call and pulling up every man with the same first name as Jessica’s ex in the five mile radius that she had been able to locate. Derek tried to tell you that the rose clue was a long shot, but you were insistent. If it was important enough for Spencer to include, it had to mean something.

It had to.

*

You were right. You thanked your lucky stars that you were right. Also Penelope. You had to thank Penelope. Without her, you were convinced the team wouldn’t be able to catch _any_ of the unsubs. As it was, she had worked her magic to find the address you needed.

Hotch had insisted that you wait in the SUV while they went in until he gave the all clear. Normally you would argue with him, but all you could feel was the intense terror that was pulling you down. What if you hadn’t been fast enough? What if you didn’t get there in time?

What if this was it?

Every conversation, every kiss, every fight, every almost? It all played on a seemingly endless loop. _Almost_. There had almost been a future, another chance. But now, maybe it was too late. Maybe you would never get the chance to make things right.

You couldn’t breathe again. Every regret, every mistake―it was all right there. Every time you walked away from him, every time you refused to give him the time of day. He had wanted a second chance.

You had wanted the same things, but you had been too afraid. Paralyzed by that fear. You had let it get the best of you.

That fear felt pointless now, juvenile even. After all that the two of you had been through, _were_ going through, it seemed so insignificant.

You sat in the car in a sort of frozen panic, counting in your head in a fruitless attempt to remain calm. The tears that you had been fighting all day finally fell. You were all alone in this goddamn SUV, utterly useless as the rest of the team made their way to Spencer. _Your_ Spencer.

You shook the thought from your mind. He wasn’t yours. Not anymore. Finally you heard Hotch calling your name over your earpiece, shocking you out of your stupor.

Once again you were moving without thinking, this time running straight past the vast rose garden and into the house. Rossi was cuffing Jessica as she spat insults at your team, almost frothing at the mouth. You barely noticed. All you could see was Spencer.

He was all but crumpled on the ground, blood seeping through his torn clothing, his face pale and bruised, but alive. He was alive. You sank to the ground beside him, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

He gazed at you weakly, his tear-filled eyes meeting yours. “I didn’t mean a word of it,” he whispered. “I knew you would understand.”

You nodded. There were no words that you could say, nothing that could quite capture just what you were feeling. He let out a sudden sob, the relief washing over both of you. Your arms found their way around him and he buried his face in your shirt, clutching at you desperately. He shook in your grasp, your eyes welling with tears once more before running your hand through his hair as you had so many times before.

It wasn’t too late.

There was still time.

“Everything’s alright, Spence,” you said softly. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

 _“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.”  
_ _― Neil Gaiman_


	11. TEN ― terrible people

_“Finally, in a low whisper, he said, ‘I think I might be a terrible person.’ For a split second I believed hi_ _m_ ― _I thought he was about to confess a crime, maybe a murder. Then I realized that we all think we might be terrible people. But we only reveal this before asking someone to love us. It is a kind of undressing.”  
_― _Miranda July_

* * *

_Seven Years Ago_

“Spence?” You knocked again, louder this time. “Spence, it’s almost time to go!”

Silence. That was odd. Spencer was never late. It was like his internal clock wouldn’t allow him to be anything but punctual. You had just pulled out your phone to call him again when you heard the shuffling of feet followed by something you couldn’t quite identify―a sniffle? The door opened slowly, revealing a very pale, very tired looking Spencer.

He blinked at you wearily, wincing as he swallowed before attempting to speak. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Oh, no, Pumpkin,” you sighed, stepping into the room and steering him towards the couch. “Lay down.”

He _harrumphed_ half-heartedly at you before surrendering. That alone told you more than his words did. Usually he would argue with you a little bit, the two of you going back and forth until eventually he caved in. He always did. He couldn’t say no to you. Now though, there was none of that bickering. He just flopped onto the couch without a word.

Figuring that he probably hadn’t had any water, you grabbed a glass for him, setting it on the coffee table. For a genius, he sure was awful at remembering to take care of himself. He took a tentative sip before laying his head back on the pillow.

You rested the back of your hand on his forehead, frowning at the heat that was radiating off of him. When you came out of the bathroom with a cool washcloth, he tried to argue that he was fine, but the trembling in his voice gave him away. Stubborn as always.

Despite his protests, the moment you pressed the cloth to his forehead you could see him visibly relax, letting out a quiet sigh.

Several hours, a few bowls of soup, and some cold medicine later, Spencer was finally starting to look better. The two of you were on his couch, his head resting in your lap as you watched reruns of Doctor Who. You played with his hair mindlessly, running your fingers through the soft curls as you always did.

He turned his head to look up at you, studying your face in the soft glow of the television. This was something so unfamiliar to him that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. He thought back to the many times he’d been sick as a kid, to all of the times that he’d been left to fend for himself. What he would have given for someone to make him some soup, to check his temperature―to simply care. This was something that happened to other people, not to Spencer Reid.

He blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, grateful that your eyes hadn’t been on him. It was the fever getting to him, making him loopy and emotional―at least that’s what he told himself. Even still, he knew it was something more. “Thank you,” he finally whispered.

You glanced down at him, smiling that smile of yours that always took his breath away. “For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

“Of course, silly. I’ll always take care of you.” You laughed softly before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And that’s a promise.”

* * *

_Present Day_

Hospitals were the worst. They smelled terrible, the lights were always much too bright, and they just reminded you of… pain. Pain and emptiness. Had the last time you had been in a hospital really been after _that_ night?

It felt so long ago, and yet if you closed your eyes it was like you were still there. The smell of burning flesh, the charred firewood. Someone screaming in the distance. If you listened long enough, the voice would come into focus―it was you begging, pleading, hoping that someone would come for you, that someone would care.

The sound consumed your thoughts. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be here. You spared one last glance to your teammates huddled at the other end of the hall. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, and you were once again grateful that they had left you alone. They didn’t need to see this―to see how weak you were.

Maybe they already knew.

You raced down the hallway, your shoes squeaking against the tile. The shallow breaths you took didn’t feel like enough―you couldn’t catch your breath. Finally you burst through the exit, desperately gasping in the fresh air. You sank to the ground, kicking up gravel.

People passed by you on their way in and out of the hospital, sending pitying glances your way. You barely recognized their presence. All you could focus on was fighting back the tears that swam in your eyes. You counted in your head in a fruitless attempt to quiet the voices that felt like they would overtake you.

You should go back. You _had_ to go back. You couldn’t just walk away, not after everything that had happened.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought you out of your thoughts mercifully, and you looked up to see Derek. “Hey, angel.” He flopped down on the ground beside you and gave your hand a quick squeeze. “He wants to see you.”

You stiffened at his words. It was good news, really it was. It meant that he was awake, that he was in good enough shape to be asking Derek for you.

Asking for you.

After everything you’d done, everything you’d put him through, he still wanted to see you. He was in the hospital, and he was asking for you. But why? The question tugged at you. Why would he still want to give you the time of day?

You wanted to see Spencer. You really, truly did. And yet something was holding you back. That fear, that complete helplessness that you had felt when you learned that he had been taken. It had almost paralyzed you. It had made you almost forget why you had shut him out in the first place. You wanted to forget, but you couldn’t. You had both done things that you could never forget.

“A lot of water under that bridge, huh?” Derek asked.

You glanced up at him sheepishly. His all too knowing gaze bored into you and you huffed out a pathetic excuse for a laugh. “God, it’s fucking obvious, isn’t it? How long have you known?”

“Remember that case with your first takedown?” You nodded. “That’s when I knew something was up. But when I really knew was when I saw the pictures.”

You let out a groan. “Penelope.”

He shrugged, laughing brightly. “Yeah, Penelope.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “A lot of water.”

He bumped your shoulder with his. “It’s not too late, Y/N.” You raised an eyebrow, but he continued. “I know you think it is, but it’s not. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him. I don’t know everything that happened―” You leveled your gaze at him and he raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, I know more than I probably should, but either way it can’t be worth all the pain that you’re in now. There has to be a way to move forward.”

“I can’t―I don’t know if I can do it, Derek.” You kicked idly at the gravel, unable to meet his eyes.

“Why not?” He asked it like it was simple, like the answer was right in front of you. You wanted it to be.

You shook your head. “I don’t know.” You couldn’t quite find the words to explain all of the doubt that pulled at you—doubt that you would ever be good enough for Spencer again.

“If you don’t at least try, you’re going to end up with more regrets than you can handle. And I don’t think it has to be that way.”

You wanted him to be right. You wanted there to be time―time for another chance, time to move past all of the things that haunted you. There was a pause as you sat in silence, his words swimming in your head, Emily’s words from only a few weeks ago right alongside them. What kind of person would you be if you didn’t even try?

You had to go see Spencer. Of course you did. Why else were you there? You couldn’t just sit out there while he was alone―alone and in pain. There had been enough of that between the two of you for an entire lifetime. The pain may be inevitable, but maybe you didn’t have to be quite so alone anymore.

Maybe.

When you finally stood up, Derek just hopped up, nodding with a smile that said he had known that you’d do it all along. He walked alongside you, holding open the door wordlessly.

The closer you got to his hospital room, the more you hesitated. Derek was right, you knew he was. But if you went in there, it was like that one last invisible line that you had so diligently drawn was being crossed. You had spent the last six months tenuously holding onto that, that one last ditch effort to protect yourself. Where did you go from there?

You pushed the thought out of your mind. Spencer was hurt. No matter what had happened between the two of you, no matter the pain that still lingered, you had made a promise. You couldn’t ignore that ache in your chest, the one that told you that you had to be there. You had to see for yourself that he was okay. That he was alive.

He was here and he was alive and there was still time.

You poked your head through the doorway, just enough to get a glimpse inside. Spencer’s head was turned towards from you, his eyes closed. You studied him for a moment, taking in the ever-present dark shadows under his eyes, the color that was just beginning to return to his cheeks. How had it been less than forty-eight hours since he had been taken from you? How had you seemed to run through every emotion humanly possible in that short time?

You weren’t sure you would ever truly know. All that you knew for certain was that you wanted to grab him and never let him go. Not again.

He looked so peaceful that you almost didn’t want to disturb him. The moment you did, reality would set back in. It was simpler like this, but it couldn’t last. Finally you cleared your throat before murmuring a quiet hello.

Spencer’s eyes shot open, and you could clock the instant that he realized it was you. A look of such intense shock crossed his face that you could feel your breath catch in your chest. Had he really thought you wouldn’t come? The thought filled you with shame, weighing you down. It killed you to think that Spencer could ever see you that way, the way that you already saw yourself. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t help but see him as that same awkward boy you had fallen in love with. That same boy that you would do anything for.

He had thought that you wouldn’t come―that you would leave him alone again.

The guilt was dizzying. You sank down into the chair beside him, dragging it forward until you were as close to him as possible. “I―I’m really glad you’re okay,” you choked out, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. It was the understatement of the century, but it was all you could manage.

Spencer blinked back at you, tears in his own eyes. “I knew you would get it.”

The silence that hung over the two of you was almost deafening. It seemed to hold all of the words you couldn’t say, all of the anguish and heartache of the last five years. The seconds ticked by painfully, the only noise in the room the endless beeping of the monitors.

Neither of you knew what to say. There was so much, almost too much.

Spencer was the first to break the silence, just the hint of a weak smile gracing his face. “Can you come here?”

If you hadn’t known Spencer the way you did, you might not have understood his question. But you knew. It was the same question you had asked one another so many times before. Every time one of you was hurting or lonely or just in need of a hug, it was ‘ _Can you come here?’_

You hesitated, just for a second, but he caught it. His eyes became downcast, the tiny smile disappearing instantly. “I know you hate me,” he whispered, “but can we just pretend for a while?”

His words were like a punch to the gut, the look on his face the twist of a knife to the heart. _I know you hate me._

Hate. The word felt unfamiliar, unwelcome. It left a bitterness in your mouth that you had once thought you’d never be able to get rid of.

Hate. Not once had you hated him.

You stood without responding, carefully climbing into the hospital bed. Spencer watched your movements, his eyebrows furrowed as he desperately tried to understand what was happening. Despite his confusion, he shifted to make space, his hand grasping yours on instinct. Your head dropped to his chest, your fingers lacing gently with his. He scarcely dared to move for fear of breaking the spell, of scaring you away.

You shut your eyes, focusing on the way that his chest rose and fell with each gentle breath. _Still here._ He was still here. “I don’t hate you,” you finally said, your words soft. “I… I tried to. But I’m so tired, Spence. I’m so tired of trying to hate you.”

“So stop trying.” It sounded simple when he said it. Just stop. “Please, Y/N. Just stop trying.”

The one question at the back of your mind found its way to the surface. “Don’t you hate me?”

Spencer shook his head. “Never. Not for one day. I’ve been angry and I’ve been upset, but I have never once hated you.”

Your lip quivered, the sincerity in his voice threatening to break you down all over again. “I’m scared.” It pained you to admit it, but it was the truth. You were scared. Scared of what would happen if you let him back in, if you let him past those walls you had so carefully created.

Spencer’s hand found its way to your chin, pushing it up gently until your eyes met. “I’m scared, too,” he said, his voice low. “But all I know is that I need you in my life. In whatever capacity you’ll give me.”

There it was again―the earnest look in his eyes, that same smile you had always known gracing his beautiful face. It made you want to say yes―yes to anything he could ever ask of you.

But there were still things that couldn’t be taken back, things you couldn’t undo. You would never be the same person that had almost kissed him on the Ferris wheel that night. He would never be the same boy who had almost kissed you by the petting zoo. There was too much time and space between who you were now and who you used to be.

“It won’t ever be the same.”

Spencer nodded at you, eyes deep in thought. “No… no, it won’t,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that it can’t be something beautiful all on its own.”

His words hit you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you. You wanted him to be right. You wanted it more than anything. You wanted _him,_ but the thought of giving in, of letting yourself be vulnerable again terrified you.

But how would you know if you never tried?

You wanted to do it. After all this time, all this pain, you still wanted him. You always had. That scared you the most. Despite everything that had happened, all that the two of you had gone through, you still looked at Spencer and saw love. You saw everything.

You always had. Ever since that morning in the lecture hall, that first night on the rooftop, that evening at the fair―all of those little moments had led you here. When you had looked at Spencer, really, truly looked at him that night underneath the stars, you had known that you wanted him in your life forever.

And now here it was. A second chance. A chance for more. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it.

“Okay.” It was all you could say for now, all you _knew_ how to say. You held his hand tightly, the tears that you had spent so long fighting back finally falling. There were no words that could quite explain what you were feeling or the sheer significance of this moment. He understood. He didn’t say a word, just pulled you closer.

In spite of the years between the two of you, all of the devastation and regret, you were still you. He was still Spencer. And the two of you together? Well, it was just right.

“Do you remember that night on the roof?”

He nodded, eyes twinkling. “I remember everything.”

You huffed out a laugh. “God, you’re so annoying—some things never change.” Spencer just shrugged and you nestled back into his side. “I meant what I said, you know. About you being my little universe. And I still mean it.” There was no response and you glanced up to see his eyes filling with tears once more. “Don’t—don’t cry, Spence.”

He shook his head, sending a watery smile your way. “Happy tears.”

You let go of his hand suddenly and reached up to the bandage on his bicep, your fingers just barely ghosting over it before reaching for your own sleeve. He studied you with wide eyes, watching as you pulled it up slowly to reveal a jagged scar that ran across your arm.

It was a small gesture, but Spencer knew exactly how much it meant for you to share that with him. It was a sort of invitation, an attempt to bridge that gap between what was and what could be. As his eyes searched yours, that vast space between the two of you that had once felt insurmountable suddenly seemed even more insignificant. There was nowhere to go from here but forward.

Forward—into the future.

“I think we’re a matching set now,” you said, choking out a broken laugh.

You pulled yourself up, daring to press the lightest of kisses to Spencer’s cheek. It was the closest you had been to him in so long, and yet if he closed his eyes he could still picture the last time he had kissed you. It was a bittersweet memory, full of equal parts tenderness and regret, but now there was a next time. A tomorrow. He would do anything to get as many tomorrows with you as he could. As many as you would allow him.

If he had it his way, it would be infinite.

* * *

_“There is nothing more beautiful than a vulnerable heart in open hands.”  
_ _― Amanda Mosher_


End file.
